


Shattered Pact

by MolecularIntegrity, Setus (MolecularIntegrity)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Comedy, Funny, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mystery, Original Character(s), Original Universe, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-18 11:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 44,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21560527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MolecularIntegrity/pseuds/MolecularIntegrity, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MolecularIntegrity/pseuds/Setus
Summary: [Revamped] On the brink of the muggle WW2, Dumbledore travels to the Far East at the urge of Nicholas Flamel, to uncover the mystery of a blank page in their Golden Phoenix book for answers to breaking the blood pact. There, he would meet someone and learn something that would go on to define who Albus Dumbledore really is. But his absence from Hogwarts was soon discovered by the Ministry and fearing he might have joined Grindelwald, Dumbledore was put on a Wanted List.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald, Albus Dumbledore/Newt Scamander, Albus Dumbledore/Original Character(s), Tina Goldstein & Newt Scamander
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	1. Alchemist

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in the Fantastic Beasts and Harry Potter series. However, original characters for the Chinese arc and Chinese sub-universe are created by me with reference from various sources and materials in Chinese literature and history. Any inconsistencies of historical events are meant to fit the story and not to be referenced for actual history. All dialogues in Italics are spoken in non-English languages to minimize the need for translation.

Late August 1938. Paris, France

In a quiet street void of human traffic, a lone cloaked, hooded figure stood in a dark alley staring straight ahead at a house with a sign hanging by its side. There had been no visible sign of activity from the house for over three days, but the hooded figure was tasked to watch the house regardless, an order he would never dare question why or what for.

Inside the house, Nicolas Flamel was well aware that he was being watched. With a pained expression upon his heavily wrinkled face, he hobbled laboriously towards his work table. A golden book laid open to a page that contained a picture of an empty but ornate office, with silver instruments dancing and whirling quietly in the background. Nicolas frowned with anxiety as he waited for a few more seconds hoping something would show up, which was very unlike him. Turning towards the crystal ball standing just next to the book that was showing equal action, he was disappointed but still relieved that he was able to see through the clear orb. 

The Alchemist turned away, hoping to move on to another task to ease his anxiety. Nicolas then turned back again for one last glance at the empty page of the book. Wincing, he turned away again, his mind empty of what could keep him busy at this point. Seemingly frustrated, the elderly man swung his sleeves in a huff, as he started pacing again.

“Nicolas.”

The alchemist gasp in shock at the hurried whisper and whipped around.

“Albus!” the old man cried as he hobbled toward the table again.

“I am sorry to have kept you waiting, my friend,” Dumbledore said as he down at his table in the picture. “Do you have news?”

“The most terrible!” the wizened alchemist cried desperately. “War is imminent and there have been two attacks from Grindelwald’s acolytes just today.”

“Nicholas,” Dumbledore sighed and said calmly. “You need to leave Paris. You know that. You know what’s coming, and,”

He stopped as he watched his old friend’s pained expression.

“You know what you have that they are after.” he finished regardless. Nicolas flicked his eyes to the side before looking away, and towards the cabinet on the wall and he felt his body tensed. Shaking his head in fear, he turned back briefly to Dumbledore. 

“But…” the alchemist looked up at the ceiling, and towards the back, as though seeing the images of past memories in the house replaying in his mind. Hundreds of years worth of happiness, of joy, of sorrow and of pain, all contained right here. 

“It will be fine, your enchantments will hold until you come back,” Dumbledore said, reading his friend’s mind. 

“But where will I go? Where will Perenelle go?” Just as Nicolas finished, a bang was heard outside his house. It had to have come from across the street. Startled, he looked out the window and saw nothing. 

“Come to London, I have arranged for you to stay with an acquaintance of mine. And I’m sure you will remember him.” the professor smiled. Outside the Flamel’s House, there was another bang, this time louder as though it was coming closer and startling the alchemist again. 

“Albus,” Nicolas said, with a much gentler voice despite the perils outside. “I will come to London, but you know what you must do too.”

To that, the smile on Dumbledore’s face faded. The two men exchanged a long and hard look. Eventually, Dumbledore looked away into the distance, seemingly somewhere out of the picture frame Nicolas was talking to. For a moment Nicolas thought he saw a determination in those eyes, but much like an illusion, it was gone in the next second. When Dumbledore looked back with a forced smile, Nicolas could only return the same.

“I am working on it, but there is much I do not know yet.” Dumbledore finally said. Nicolas stood straighter, giving him his full attention. When Dumbledore did not continue, he urged him on with a nod. 

Outside in the empty street, the hooded figure looked left and right to make sure that there was nobody coming this way. Despite the ruckus he caused, the house stood quietly still. Casually, he then left the shadows and walked straight towards the house. Checking his surroundings discretely again, he knocked on the door, pretending to be a visitor asking for directions. No answer. He peered into the window but saw nothing in the tinted glass, as though it was enchanted to be only one-way. Stepping back onto the pavement, he looked towards the second floor. Then pretending that he was looking for someone urgently, he knocked on the door hurriedly this time and looked towards the back of the house. Checking his surroundings once again, he stepped away from the door and headed for the back. 

“Albus, I think they might be close.” Inside, Nicolas panicked as he heard the knocks clearly.

“Pack your things and come to London now,” Dumbledore said immediately. 

“No, no.” Nicolas shook his head with a weak smile. “I am sorry Albus but thank you for your generosity. I’m going to find Perenelle and head someplace quiet for the time being.”

“Nicolas,” Dumbledore said seriously. 

“Don’t worry about me Albus, I will keep the stone safe,” Nicolas said hurriedly as he turned around with much effort as though he felt someone was entering from the back door. “Albus listen to me.”

Dumbledore’s photo nodded as he leaned in.

“I may have lived a long life, but I have no answer for your dilemma,” Nicolas said kindly, but a sound behind him startled him again. “But there may be one and it is at the back of this book.”

The sound was getting closer. Nicolas panicked, and he picked up the book with much difficulty. 

“Albus, look for the blank page at the end of this book. It was said to belong to someone who lives longer than I have, but for some reason has never returned to the picture.” Nicolas said hurriedly as he looked upwards. There was another sound, this time far too close. “I have to go, Albus, I wish you well.” 

Before the next sound came and before Dumbledore could react, Nicolas slammed the book shut and dropped it onto the other table. He opened the cabinet in the wall and reached for a glowing red stone.

The hooded figure found the back door and had forced it opened with much difficulty. The alchemist certainly kept his enchantments up to date and powerful, he thought, but it was nothing he could not bypass with a little few dark tricks. He strolled in with ease as though he owned the place, passing through the kitchen that sat in isolation for centuries and towards the hall. He was sure he heard a faint voice up ahead, speaking with haste. With his wand at the ready, his boots steady on the floorboards, he stepped towards the living room. 

Nothing. He stepped into an empty house. He looked around frantically. No couches, no tables, no sign of anyone who could have lived here in centuries. The floor was covered in a thick layer of dust that his boots left imprints as he walked around. Cursing, he turned and stormed out from the back, taking one last glance at the house before disapparating. 

Far away in an office of a castle out in the Scottish Highlands, Dumbledore watched the frame of Nicolas Flamel emptied. He had faith that his friend will be just fine. The last words that the alchemist left him piqued his curiosity. Picking up his own book, he turned each hard paper page one by one, glancing at the names of the empty pictures until he reached the last. Indeed, it was a blank page, with an empty frame and an empty label. There were no clues for him to even begin finding out who the empty frame belonged to. It was just a blank frame with not a single movement detected from within. He placed his hand over it and felt nothing, as though all magic had been drained from the paper. It was literally, just a piece of ordinary parchment, that perhaps in a different time, was a different story.

Dumbledore took a deep breath and put down the book with a heavy heart. He walked over to the open window where it overlooked the great lake of Hogwarts. Lamenting his situation, he let his eyes wander over the faint ripples of the water. 

It has been eleven years, since the day he recovered ownership of the Blood Pact. It had been a very difficult eleven years as news poured into his office in masses of the Global Wizarding War, pleas from his old peers and acquaintances to take action. Dumbledore knew that his pain must be concealed to the outside world. There were rumors, whispers of disturbing gossip of him and his family. Dumbledore kept everything to himself as far as the press and public were concerned.

He reached into his innermost pocket and fished for the blood pact. For a moment his heart skipped a beat because he could not feel it, but as he dug deeper, his finger came into contact with the oddly warm metal. 

Knock. Knock. 

Jolting back into reality, Dumbledore pulled his hand out and straightened himself as he beckoned the person outside his door in. 

“Professor Dumbledore.” 

“Albus, please.” Dumbledore corrected her.

“Very well, Albus.” McGonagall said formally as she closed the door.

“Thank you for agreeing to this, Minerva.” He said with a smile. 

“I never thought you would be able to convince the Ministry to do this again.” She said as she tucked a long chain back into her clothes. “I don’t suppose the first time they believed you entirely.”

“But the fact remained is that it is possible, and only the bravest and most remarkable witch could succeed it.” Dumbledore smiled with a twinkle, to which McGonagall did not return. “Nevertheless, thank you for putting your faith in me.”

“You are rarely wrong, that was what I had faith in. It would have been easier if you had just accepted the job as the Minister of Magic.” she gave him a smaller smile and huff as the older man chuckled. “So what do you need me for this time?” 

“I foresee I might be doing a little traveling in the near future.” Dumbledore tucked his hands into his pockets to give her a coy smile as he leaned against the window ledge. “I need someone I can trust to take care of the students whilst I am gone.”

“You mean to take care of the school, while you are gone.” McGonagall corrected. 

“It is, after all, going to be your school.” he smiled. “Or it was, your school.”

“Let’s not quibble about technicality.” McGonagall cut abruptly. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know, and that’s the truth, Minerva.” Dumbledore quickly added as he caught her piercing eye. “There are some answers I need to find. And I have to do this alone.” 

The young professor narrowed her eyes at those words, but in the next moment heaved a breath and nodded. 

“Thank you,” Dumbledore said quietly. He crossed over to his wardrobe and pulled out a traveling coat and a hat. “For now, I need to answer a simpler question.” 

“And what is that?” McGonagall asked as her eyes traveled to the book on the table. In a swift motion, Dumbledore had summoned the book, closed it and sent it flying into his cabinet with a very resounding lock click. Putting on a mischievous smile, he pocketed his wand and walked towards the door. McGonagall followed him closely, her shoes clicking hard with the stone floors of the old school. 

“I’ve always loved this time of the year just before the students returned,” Dumbledore said as he looked across the long hallways in the castle. “The air is full of excitement of what the next school year will bring.”

“Yes. I believe so.” McGonagall agreed as she hurried to keep up with him. “Transfiguration this time I suppose?” 

“Indeed, your best subject back in the days.” Dumbledore gave her a sideways smile. “Or was it in the days to come?”

“Albus!” McGonagall snapped impatiently. “Where are you going and what should I tell the headmaster and anyone who asks? You know you are not someone to be easily missed, surely you’ve known that by now.”

“I will call upon the faith that you have in me that I am rarely wrong,” Dumbledore said as he stood at the entrance of the school and put his coat on. “On the rare occasion, I find myself lacking a certain knowledge, I urge myself to seek answers. Right now, I need to be off to find out where I need to go.”

Dumbledore tipped his head onto his head and gave the substitute professor a nod before stepping outside of the Hogwarts gates. With a smile to the sky, a crack in the air, he disapparated. 


	2. Crumpets

The lights of Jacob’s bakery flickered slightly as the baker flipped the sign on his door to “Close”. It had been a long day as he bustled around the tiny shop without extra help. Jacob locked the door and turned back to the shop. There were barely any leftovers today, only one demiguise pastry, a few loaves of bread, and an erumpent puff. He packed all of them in a paper bag and left it on the counter to close the register.

Outside the bakery, people hustled about their daily errands huddled in the fall chill with thick coats and scarves. The sun had set and streetlamps illuminated only their immediate areas. Once the bakery lights flicked off, the end of the street dimmed significantly. Jacob pulled on his coat tighter and hugged the leftover bag as he locked his bakery. 

No sign of Queenie today, again, for close to eleven years. Jacob stood a little back to look at his small shop. With a heavy heart, he turned away and walked off. Nobody paid any attention to him as he walked down the street. The business has been steady, not as fantastic as back in New York, but that is not why he decided to move here. 

Jacob walked further, it was always the same route, from the bakery to Newt’s house. The next morning, it would be from Newt’s house to the bakery. Such has been, for ten years and every day, he would look at everyone who passed him by, hoping, just maybe, he might catch a glimpse of that signature blond hair wearing pink. Every day has been a disappointment, but Jacob never lost hope. 

The baker stopped at Sherringford Square. There was literally nobody around at this hour. He stared at the square, and to this day, he could still hear her voice.

_“Why is it wrong to want to marry you? To wanna have a family? I just want what everyone else has, that’s all.”_

_“They’re really progressive here, and they’ll let us get married properly.”_

_“You’re not givin’ me a choice. One of us had to be brave, and you were being a coward!”_

Over the years, Jacob couldn’t help but wonder how would it have gone differently, if he had said yes that night. He would have wanted the same things as she did, to be with her every day, and with full knowledge that he did. Watching her walk through the blue flames was probably the most painful and hardest thing he ever had to do, and every day since then, it was a constant worry if she is still alive.

Sighing, he turned toward door number nine. He unlocked the door and closed it behind him, setting down the bag of leftovers as peeled off his coat mindlessly. The apartment was as it is the first time he came. The only difference now is a moving picture frame on the cabinet with a woman smiling brightly. Jacob turned to hang his coat on the rack and one of the lights out in the street went out. Curious, he peered out the translucent curtains. There was no one out there. 

Then he saw the light of a second streetlamp zoomed across the square into darkness. Blinking and shaking his head, Jacob stared hard. Another lamp from the other side did the same. While moving pictures and magic creatures no longer seem strange to him, this certainly still is, and all alarms went off in his head. He staggered back a little, knocking into the chair at the table, and pulled himself towards the door that led down to the basement.

“NEWT!” he hollered as he clambered down the stairs. “NEWT ARE YOU HERE?!” 

Jacob skipped two steps and climbed further down, grabbing onto the banisters tightly for balance. He peered over the railings and couldn’t find any sign of his roommate. Then he stopped, perhaps he was overthinking this. Perhaps it was something, or someone else, probably not related. Or perhaps he was just too tired that he was seeing things. Jacob nodded at the last conclusion as it was the most rational one. So he slowed his steps as he descended, he needed to find Newt, anyway. 

Then from above, he heard a faint door opening. Jacob spun so hard that he almost slid off the step and quickly ran downwards again. 

“NEWT!” he bellowed as loud as he can as he looked upwards, hoping to see, or not to see any movements from the ground floor. As he turned his head around with his foot landing on the final bottom of the basement, his face came so close and almost knocking into a scaly black face. “WHOA!” 

He fell back from the shock and composed himself as a pair of hands steadied him. 

“Oh, it’s you, Nagini.” Jacob swallowed hard as he clutched his heart, feeling it almost pounding through his ribs. 

“What is it?” Nagini asked as she held him steady with blackened hands, as though her skin was covered in soot. Regaining his thoughts, he threw his head upwards to the stairs, Nagini did the same. “Someone’s coming!” 

“Where’s Newt?” Jacob asked hurriedly and looked around. 

“He went to see his brother, for dinner,” Nagini answered, throwing an alarmed glance upwards. Jacob swallowed hard and held out his hand to make himself pause and think rationally.

“Lets, hide. This guy, or, a woman I don’t know. He can absorb lights!” Jacob said calmly at first but began to panic and yelped the last words, making Nagini even more scared. He shoved his fist into his mouth to stop himself from squeaking again and to calm himself down. He then pressed a finger to his lips and took one of her dark hands. Quietly and slowly they turned towards a dim alley underground away from Newt’s work desk.

“Ah, I thought I’d find someone down here. Is Newt home?” a cool voice spoke behind them and the two of them froze, their hands tightened around each other’s. Slowly, Jacob turned his head around, followed by Nagini who was too cautious as her eyes darted fleetingly, to see Dumbledore standing halfway down the last flight of stairs, smiling at them. “Sorry I had let myself in. It was getting rather cold outside.” 

Jacob remembered this man, so did Nagini, but knowing what she is gradually becoming, she hid behind Jacob, concealing any part of exposed skin and scales. The baker stared for a moment, remembering where he had seen him before, then burst out in nervous laughter. Nagini frowned with genuine concern, but Dumbledore remained smiling.

***

“Thank you for dinner, I should insist on paying the next time,” Newt said as he walked out of a small quiet restaurant with barely anyone left. 

“I’ve always enjoyed your company. You know that.” Theseus waved his brother off as he followed, letting the door close behind him with a chime to the door. The two brothers then walked down the empty street together in silence, just like during the entire course of dinner. An awkward opening, followed by updates on work, then news about people, and it was back to silence. “How is Tina?” 

“Oh, Tina had to go back to America. She’s an Auror for MACUSA after all and that’s where she lives, anyway.” Newt answered, his voice trailed off with a hint of a grin. Theseus could see that his brother misses her, even though she was here visiting not long ago. Newt turned awkwardly to look at his brother. It has been a long eleven years, and it appears not a day has gone by without letting him forget the sight of his fiance consumed by blue flames. 

Theseus caught his gaze, and neither of them said anything. They continued walking in silence. 

“I know she has always loved you. Even when she agreed to marry me, I knew.” 

“Theseus-”

“Let me finish.” Theseus cut him off and stopped walking, causing Newt to stop abruptly, his case swinging violently in his hand. He looked at his older brother, his face etched with deep lines from constant worry and fighting back Grindelwald’s acolytes and army ever since that faithful day. Neither of them spoke as Theseus struggled to find the right words even after all these years. Newt has never broached the subject, and even if he ever thought about it, it was never quite shown on his face. Newt was never one to be confrontational and forthcoming with things that could be let go in the past. 

But he knew what Theseus was going to say, and frankly, he didn’t need to hear it, not anymore. They had never spoken about this, not since that day at the graveyard. Theseus did not even give himself a chance to grieve, or perhaps in his own way, fighting and tracking Grindelwald was his way of grieving. Newt stepped forward, with an open arm to pull his brother in for a hug. The last time was that night, it seemed appropriate now still. 

“It’s all in the past, Theseus. None of us wanted it this way, but Leta won’t be coming back. She wouldn’t have wanted you to be like this.” Newt said quietly. He felt his coat being pulled tight at his back and patted his brother. “You’re still my brother. You’ll always be.” 

Theseus let go of his little brother at that to meet his eyes, yet very iconic of Newt, he averted his gaze awkwardly. The older brother understood him clearly, so he tightened his grip on his little brother’s shoulder and nodded in agreement. He was relieved to hear it coming from Newt, someone he knew his entire life to not be the one with the words. It had been eleven long years that he had shut out any condolences from anyone, even Newt’s. He had tried so hard to reconcile his own feelings and struggles without help or support. He would not let anyone try. But there comes a point where a human heart can only take so much. He knew he had to move on; he knew that very well. His only last unresolved struggle was knowing Leta and Newt shared more than just friendship. But seeing how his brother has found the love of his life and possibly forgiven him in his silent embrace, perhaps it is time Theseus be a little kinder to himself. 

“I should be going. It’s getting close to the full moon, and the mooncalfs will be out for feeding.” Newt said, breaking the silence. Theseus broke into a gentle smile and a chuckle, as he patted his brother’s back. His brother certainly has not changed over the years, a quality and principle that Theseus secretly admired very much. The awkward silence prevailed when he did not respond. “You don’t have to do everything by yourself you know… I can help.”

“I know and you can help me by staying out of trouble and staying safe,” Theseus answered with a few hard pats on his brother’s shoulder. “Say hello to the moonkafs for me.” 

“Mooncalfs.” Newt corrected and looked up, just in time to see his brother let his shoulder go, and disapparate with a small wave. He heaved a deep breath and looked up into the sky before disapparating himself back to his house. 

The lights are on, as he could tell behind the curtains as he walked up to number nine. Jacob must be back from the bakery, he thought. Hoping to have one of the crumpets leftovers like yesterday, he opened the door to his house. Indeed, Jacob was back, sitting at the table with Nagini, and another well-dressed gentleman around cups of hot tea and pastries.

“Dumbledore!” Newt exclaimed as he froze at the sight of his old teacher. Slowly, his hands moved to close the door, his head not leaving his former teacher, as the suffocating silence in the house was too much to miss.

“Good evening Newt. Looking as sharp as ever,” Dumbledore said, holding up a cup of tea to him before taking a sip. Newt cast a look at Jacob and Nagini, both sitting very stoic and sending him signs of distress with their eyes. “I was telling Mr. Kowalski here I must have his recipe for these amazing pastries. The baked goods at Hogwarts could certainly do with a refreshing change.” 

Jacob snapped out of his distress call to Newt to give Dumbledore a very embarrassing smile. He waved off the compliment slightly with an awkward squawk before going completely silent as he stared at Newt harder. 

“So, what brings you here Dumbledore?” Newt asked and set his case down to unwrap the scarf around his neck. Seeing an opportunity to escape, Jacob seized it. 

“I’ll bring down the case shall I?” Jacob sprang from his seat. “The nifflers would need to be back in their cages I say. Won’t want those little rascals sneaking upstairs for them teaspoons right? Ha. ha!” 

He swooped for Newt’s case and turned. 

“Nagini would you like to help me?” Nagini did not think twice and stood immediately, opened the door to the basement and the two disappeared behind it. Newt walked over and sat down, his eyes still on his teacher.

“So it seems the maledictus curse has begun taking over Nagini.” Dumbledore turned his head away from the closed door. “But it also appears you have found a way to slow it down.” 

“Yes, I’ve read that a certain potion can slow down curses, and I happened to have some of the main ingredients,” Newt said cautiously. Dumbledore only gave an approving smile. 

“I have no doubt if anyone could, it would be you.” Dumbledore nodded.

“What are you really here for, Dumbledore?” Newt asked again, this time more affirmative. Dumbledore gave him a very mysterious smile, one that he was too familiar with. Newt began to back away, sensing something unpleasant coming his way. 

“I’m here to ask about New York, I’m looking for a specific person that you’ve met,” Dumbledore said, sipping his tea again, much to Newt’s surprise. 

***

“What do you think he’s here for?” Nagini asked nervously as she glanced up at the door, before hurrying down the steps behind Jacob, her shoes against the steps silent as she pulled down the long sleeves of her long dress as though to shield herself.

“I don’t know, maybe he just wants to talk,” Jacob said and continued down the winding stairs, waving hello to the Augurey that he always does. “Newt says he’s a really cool guy so I don’t think he’s here for trouble.” 

He stopped suddenly.

“They say he’s a really powerful wizard if he had meant trouble he would have killed us right then and there.” Jacob mused and brought down his hand to mimic casting a spell. He then broke out into nervous laughter again, but seeing Nagini’s worried face behind the scales, he stopped. “It’ll be fine.”

Jacob felt his stomach rumbled slightly. Then he turned to Nagini in seriousness.

“You don’t think there was something in the tea he gave us, do you?” he pressed a hand to his belly feeling it gargle.

“I didn’t drink any.” Nagini shook her head. Jacob’s eyes widened with alarm, then shook his head and reassured himself, poorly. 

**

“So the east?” Newt asked as he watched Dumbledore pace his kitchen. “Yes, Madam Ya Zhou is an international delegate from the East but not much is known about her or even the East. There have never been documents or any records about the countries in Asia having any magic usage, except only in Japan and Russia where they have schools of magic that were registered. There have been rumors, I’ve heard, that there might be other practitioners in the larger part of the continent but there are no known schools or government.” 

Dumbledore nodded, as though he had already known. 

“I have never been there myself, though I would if I could to return the Zouwu back home. I could ask Tina if she knows anything if you’d like.” 

“No, no. This is between you and me.” Dumbledore shook his head as he leaned on the cabinet by the window, deep in thought. At the same time, he could hear the longing of traveling again to learn about magical creatures and other magic cultures in Newt’s voice, something he has always admired since his days at Hogwarts. “How is Miss. Goldstein?”

“She’s very well, she just went back to report to MACUSA two days ago,” Newt said, and Dumbledore caught the twinkle in his eyes and the excitement in his voice at the mention of Tina. 

“And Theseus?” 

Newt’s face fell a shade that did not go unnoticed. He became slightly awkward as he chose his next words carefully. If anyone else could convince Theseus, it would be Dumbledore. At least that was what Newt believed. 

“He’s doing fine. It seems he’s drowning himself in the hunt for Grindelwald as atonement and to grieve.” Newt said naturally, and realizing he had said a little too much, he straightened awkwardly. 

“He’ll need you. You’re, after all, family.” Dumbledore said quietly. Newt nodded absentmindedly to that. But he had more important things to address.

“And you’re really leaving?” Newt asked. Dumbledore sighed heavily. “I don’t suppose, you’re not just here only for information about Madam Ya Zhou. You have some sort of, task, to delegate to me.”

Dumbledore frowned amusingly as Newt fidgeted in his chair uncomfortably. They say never to poke a sleeping dragon, much of it was written in the Hogwarts school motto, yet in this case, as innate to Newt, he would go poke a sleeping dragon, if he needed to.

“You’re looking to do something for me, Newt? This is highly unusual.” Dumbledore mused as he folded his arms to look more closely at his former student.

“No, I mentioned it for the sole purpose to say No.” Newt took a deep breath.

“That does not stop me from telling you either way,” Dumbledore said as he walked towards his former student. “Stay safe and keep each other safe.” 

He said kindly as he put a hand on his student’s shoulder. Newt inclined his head in confusion as he looked into Dumbledore’s eyes. He couldn’t quite tell what those piercing blue eyes are hiding, but there was a hint of melancholy. Let alone, what is Dumbledore playing at. And somehow, this is the second time in the same evening that he was told the same thing. Newt could not help but wonder if he had ever displayed any sign of behavior that acquainted him with danger in any way.

“I’ve left Hogwarts in trusted hands, but I hope you could drop by some time, and see your old school once in a while.” Dumbledore smiled still and took a deep breath. Then the older man turned and picked up his coat. “And don’t tell anyone where I’m going.” 

“I won’t,” Newt said. “But, how would you go?” 

“You would like to know?” Dumbledore paused to look back, amused again. Newt shook his head immediately. “I didn’t think so.” 

Putting his hat back on, he headed for the door with Newt following. 

“Do, do come back and tell me about your travels,” Newt said shyly and softly, but quickly pulled himself back to not seem overly eager. Dumbledore stopped as he opened the door. If anything, his concern for his teacher’s safety into the unknown in an underlying tone, only affirms to Dumbledore how much he admired Newt. 

“I intend to.” Dumbledore tipped his hat to his student and stepped outside into the darkness outside the square. Newt paused for a moment at his door, watching in the midst of darkness, several orbs of light dispersed out into all the immediate streetlamps, lighting up a quiet and empty square. 


	3. Flood Lands

Early October 1938. Tianjin, China

Dumbledore sat in his dingy, low-ceiling cabin, with a small bed and a chair in the middle of the tiny space, gently bobbing to the waves under the ship. It was not his first choice to travel by sea, but the best one he could have since over a month ago. The ship had stopped rocking hard, and people outside were shouting directions in a language he was not familiar with. They must have docked. That would mean, it was time to go. The wizard stood up straight, bumping his head against the low-ceiling for the millionth time ever since this bed became a form of solitary confinement in his journey to the east. Uttering a small cry, he bowed his head and picked up the small case and his coat and hat.

 _“We’re here!”_ came a voice in another language with a heavy accent outside his cabin door, and three bangs on it. Dumbledore need not know the language, but it was clear that it really was time to go. With a bent head, he headed for the door, opened it to nobody and made his way down the passageway towards the deck. His head and neck gave a sigh of relief as he emerged headfirst onto the main deck where he could finally stand up straight to get his bearings.

The air is completely different from what he’s used to. It was cold but not as cold as back in London, and it was filled with mystery and unknown. The sky and the sea formed a picturesque combination of both awe and fear, behind him a busy port where ships of various nationalities docked. Around him was not a single moment of halt, particularly the ship he is on was busy unloading its goods.

“Ah! Doubledoor!” the cracking voice behind him sounded. Dumbledore took the last few steps up the stairs to come face to face the old sea captain. “We here!”

“Thank you, Captain, for the passage from England.” Dumbledore extended his hand to the old man, but the man waved him off with a smile of barely a few teeth left.

“Oh, never mind. You bring good luck!” He gave Dumbledore a thumb up sign enthusiastically. “You sail with us, no storm! The passage from Malacca this time of year, many storm! But with you, no storm! Good wind! Good sea!”

Dumbledore smiled humbly, for he could not bring himself to tell the old Chinese muggle captain that they were under attack several times over the course of the voyage. With pirates, a disillusion charm on the ship would do, but Gindelwald’s acolytes? It took much more.

“Ah, when,” The captain broke his thoughts, and he snapped out of his daze. “When you go home?”

“I’m not sure yet myself,” Dumbledore answered honestly as he shook his head slightly. The captain’s face fell slightly, but being old has its wisdom, for he nodded thoughtfully immediately after, as though acknowledging Dumbledore’s silent pain.

“No matter, but when you go home, you come find me here.” He pointed to the ship vigorously. “Next voyage, in one month. Silk and porcelain, spice and tea, good trade!”

“Thank you, Captain.” Dumbledore nodded and grabbed the man’s hand to shake firmly this time. “I wish you a good business.”

“Good luck Doubledoor!” The captain bellowed and waved behind him as he made his way down the gangway. Around him, people gave have him several looks before turning away, not because he was tall, nor his different dress code, but because Dumbledore did not seem to be a businessman that fit into a trading dock. He seemed very out of place, and very far away from home and very clueless. Dumbledore made his way through the crowds of workers unloading and loading crates and sacks, livestock and baggage, taking in the massive difference between the East and West now that he had finally arrived. 

Behind him, the ship captain watched as the Englishman weaved through the crowd, his smile and happy tradesman demeanor faded as he narrowed his eyes at the slowly shrinking hat.

 _“Captain.”_ behind him, a deckhand held out a white pigeon. The captain drew out a small rolled-up piece of paper and tucked it into a small bamboo canister attached to the pigeon’s leg. Securing it, he threw the bird into the air and the pigeon took off into the sky, over the sails of neighboring ships. Turning back to the crowd, the captain had lost sight of the Englishman. He drew a deep breath and nodded thoughtfully.

***

Dumbledore wandered into the town just outside the port. Immediately, he could tell something was not quite it seemed. There was a Japanese flag flying from the buildings and all around him, people were giving him second looks. He dipped his hat lower and moved faster, listening closely. Some people stopped to look, some pointed, others dashed away. Dumbledore knew he was drawing too much attention to himself.

Finally, behind him, someone shouted in Japanese. He did not turn and quickly ducked into an alley right beside him and disapparated. People ran forward to catch up with him, but lost sight of him as soon as they entered the alley. As a safety precaution, Dumbledore decided to conceal himself until he has further information on where he needed to go. From the rooftop of the same building, he disapparated to the end of the town where he could see roads. At the crossroad, he spotted more people of various nationalities. Picking one who dressed in a slightly similar fashion as himself, he followed closely behind, taking care to understand his surroundings and where he was.

As he would have predicted, Dumbledore was rarely wrong, and he picked the one person to follow that led him to the British Concession. There, a bustling city with finances and trade centers greeted him like an old friend. Shedding his concealment charm discretely as he blended in with the crowd, he walked with a straighter stance as he approached what looked like a hotel he could stay for the night.

“Welcome to The Astor.” The Chinese woman at the front desk greeted him. He gave her a charming smile. “This way, please.”

Dumbledore’s smile faded. The woman left her post and headed for the stairs next to the front desk. She turned to give him a look as though she had been expecting him, before turning back and heading up the stairs, without giving him a chance to refute. Confused, and looking around the lobby where nobody seemed to pay any attention to him, Dumbledore picked up his case and followed behind. He followed the woman in a stunning red Qipao as she walked daintily down a long ornate corridor to a set of doors. Abruptly, she stopped halfway and side-stepped. She held out her hand to gesture at the door, gave a bow and walked away.

Dumbledore looked at the door at the end before turning back to ask her something, but she had already disappeared. Sensing something amiss, he prepared his wand under his sleeve should this be a trap. After all, those phantom ships he deflected during the nights on his voyages were no mere coincidence, they knew he was coming here. He approached the door cautiously, to which as he had half-expected, it opened gently inwards.

Inside, was a grand and luxurious ballroom that looked like everything was tinted with gold. Wooden carved tables and chairs westernized couches with cushions of embroidery and a chandelier hung from the ceiling. Ahead on the couch, back facing him, was a woman with an ornate headdress and fur cape.

He approached slowly, calculating his odds and checking his surroundings, as the woman did not turn, neither did she speak. As he walked towards her side, he could see several long beaded necklaces, and her face very calm, as though deep in meditation. Then slowly, her eyes opened when he came to her side.

“You must be Madam Ya Zhou.” He said softly, as she stared straight ahead.

“Quite right, Mr. Dumbledore.” she smiled without turning and gestured with an elegant turn of her palm towards the seat opposite her. Dumbledore gave her a nod of thanks and sat down. She looked at him serenely. “May I inquire as to your presence here in China, Mr. Dumbledore? Surely you of all people are not here for vacation.”

Not willing to tell her the truth, he gave her a charming but awkward smile.

“You draw far too much attention to yourself, Mr. Dumbledore.”

“I’ve always considered myself to be a very discrete person.” He joked but stared her down. 

“And you think that it is by accident that you are here now?” She countered as she lifted her head ever so slightly. Dumbledore’s smile faded. “You may stay in this establishment if you’d like, but I assure you that your presence in China now is not ideal and I must ask you to leave quickly.”

“Because of the war?” He asked, slightly disturbed by the turn of events. There is a synchronicity that was very off inside him, and alarms have begun to sound in his head.

“Because of both wars.” She said and stood up gracefully. Her elaborate robe draped on her stature, swishing as she turned to walk away from the couch. “The tension now between countries all over the world is extremely high, our community risk exposure in many parts of the world. At the heart of it all, Grindelwald is making use of it to further his cause, something I have come to understand that you, Mr. Dumbledore is adamant about not interfering.”

To that, Dumbledore kept quiet. She looked back to glace at him briefly and strolled towards a bright window.

“Tell me, Mr. Dumbledore, are you to watch the world die, little by little?”

Dumbledore reached for his sleeve immediately.

***

McGonagall gave a huff as the tip of her quill broke. The letter to the ministry is now ruined and needs to be fixed. She pulled out another quill and tapped the parchment with her wand, restoring the part where the broken quill made an ugly smudge and tear before continuing to write. This is the fourth letter today from the ministry, demanding to know the whereabouts of Dumbledore.

“I don’t quite care, Mr. Travers if the delegate from the East wishes to speak to Dumbledore right now at the ministry. He is not here there’s nothing I can do about it!” she said through gritted teeth as she finished the letter and threw down the quill. Folding the parchment with much force that she almost tore it, she handed it to the owl still standing right there waiting patiently but very alarmed at the sharpness of McGonagall’s voice. “I don’t have any idea means I don’t!”

As the owl took off with relief, the school bell rang throughout the school. Slightly frustrated, McGonagall picked up her books and wand, and headed for the door, slamming it a little harder this time.

***

Dumbledore disapparated out of The Astor, having drawn even more attention to the two loud explosions that caused by his attacker and the deflecting of the curse. He had a split second look of his assailant, who appears to be a younger American man with a devious look behind such an innocent face. Putting on his coat and hat, having lost his suitcase, but that is of the least concern now. He surveyed his surroundings and decided perhaps it would be best to leave the city immediately. Concealing himself once again, he ducked into another building two streets down, a trade center building. There, he found a map of China and duplicated a copy of it for reference. As he left the building, he hurried past a large decorative dish at the main entrance with four beasts imprinted intricately on it. A dragon, a tiger, a tortoise, and a bird. Dumbledore was drawn to the dish, but hearing a commotion nearby, he quickly ducked outside and disapparated.

Outside The Astor, people were rushing towards the building, shouting and screaming directions and horror. The inhabitants of the hotel ran outside in batches, huddled together, terrified.

In the destroyed ballroom, Abernathy struggled to sit up in the midst of rubble as he tore away the elaborate clothing of the delegate. Sensing someone approaches, he quickly disapparated, leaving the once elegant ballroom of historical significance, in utter shambles.

***

Dumbledore could feel fatigue and hunger set in by the time he stopped by a small town to ask for his bearings. While the townsfolk was not particularly warm, they were at least polite and offered him a place to rest and food for the evening in the municipal building. While he could not understand what was going on around him, he could interpret parts of the hurried and worried voices that there has been a massive flood somewhere southwest of where he currently was. A dam had been broken and the Imperial Japanese troops were slightly halted. Sensing something to do with his community, he decided to head there to investigate the next day.

He laid on the couch in the lobby of the municipal building after a meal of congee and plain vegetables that the building officer was kind enough to bring him; he evaluated his current situation as he stared at the bugs flying around the bright lamp from the ceiling.

Dumbledore had very few low points in his life, of which the lowest of low, was during his sister’s misfortunate years. He had lost most of his life to which he rebuilt since, and he couldn’t help but feel a part of him blaming someone in particular. Over the years he struggled alone, with his pain internalized and the public remained convinced that Albus Dumbledore’s life was tragic but still a promising person of power that will bring about a better age for the wizarding community. In retrospect, he had much less position to judge Theseus or Newt for what happened eleven years ago.

He laid awake, his eyes no longer concentrated on the lamp and the surrounding bugs, his mind in a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. Most frustratingly, was that Dumbledore never knew what was the right answer, though he seemed to always be right, and telling people the right things at the right time. They never knew, how much struggle and thought went into giving that one right answer.

With that, he fished out his deluminator and clicked it. The light above him went out.

The next morning came and Dumbledore decided to move on quickly seeing how his first day in the east had been rather misfortunate. He thanked the building officer and asked with his map where the flood was and got the general direction as to where he was supposed to go. Just before he had decided to travel via disapparation again, the man from the building waved him over in mandarin. He then gestured to the truck that was parked outside with people clamoring on with supplies. Dumbledore fished out his map, and the man indicated that the truck was headed for one of the flooded regions, and he thanked him with an awkward bow and climbed onto the back of the truck with a handful of people and an entire entourage of livestock and produce.

The entire journey on the bumpy sand road consisted of the few people staring at him, then looking away quickly when he looked up. Nobody spoke to Dumbledore, something he was quite relieved about. He listened as the engine roared, marveling at the muggle invention that moved slower but just as efficient than magic, and people talking about something.

They traveled for five days, stopping every quarter of the day for rest. Dumbledore was always on the alert should someone be lurking by after tracking him down. Suffice to say the journey was uneventful, something he was grateful for. By the fifth nightfall, they had reached another province. The truck stopped in front of a makeshift building where outside, small clusters of fires were made and tents were put up. People began to unload their supplies, and Dumbledore knew his trip with the crew has ended. He thanked the driver with an awkward bow and headed on the road. He could feel a very severe chill in the air. Around him there were people with lamps and torches, still working on something in the field.

Refugee camp. Dumbledore concluded. In sections and areas, people were huddled together, sharing food and warmth. Finding a secluded corner, he hid and disapparated. Following the trail of refugees who were pressing on in the night away from the flood, he soon found himself knee-deep in water. A simple spell kept him dry, and he continued on. The chill did not dissipate, if any, it had gotten worse. He had an inkling of what might be causing this, for the further he went, the colder he got, and the mist thickened.

Drawing his wand, he stood at the ready as he illuminated slightly his immediate area. He found a small patch of dry land and hurried towards it. From the corner of his eyes, he thought he saw flashes of white dash past. Muttering “nox”, he kept his wand and disapparated again, this time to higher lands.

As soon as he touched on the hill, he felt something whoosh past his ear and he quickly sidestepped. A thud was heard next to the tree near him and then another few flashes happened again. Dumbledore tried to squint into the darkness. He knew at the very least, those were humans or wizards at best. He cast a protective charm around himself, just in time for another few whooshes, this time, hitting his bubble and falling to the floor. Dumbledore looked down to see they were metal pieces of four ends, sharpened. Dumbledore searched his mind for something that might help him in this situation. Or he could retreat.

Disapparating in his bubble, he found himself on another hill, this time far away from the flood lands he came from. He paused and listened closely. Something just was not right still.

“Homenum Revelio.” he muttered quietly, and a chill ran down his spine, a sensation that he has not felt for a long time. He cast the bubble over him again, just in time for several white figures to dash out into plain sight towards him from all directions. Dumbledore spun around in his bubble, trying to get a good look at how many of them were there. In the darkness, he could see the reflective edges of blades coming at him.

Then a loud crack split the silence in the air so loud that Dumbledore cowered a little. The white figures around him were repelled away as though a force sucker-punched them away from his bubble. He looked up to see the patch of darkness in the sky with a long bright line of light disappear into the trees above him. Dumbledore turned back the white figures around him as they clamored to their feet and looked to each other, in battle stance. But in that moment of hesitance, binding ropes that resembled roots of trees shot from under their feet and hog-tying them onto the ground.

Dumbledore raised his arm slightly as he moved in his bubble and felt a sharp pain. In the darkness of the night, he saw his arm embedded a few of the metal pieces he saw earlier. It would seem like he had avoided only one since the beginning. 

A whistle rang through the forested area, distracting him and bringing him back to the situation he was in. The next moment, Dumbledore saw a white horse pulling a carriage trotted towards him from the far end of the forest. A voice in his head told him to board, this was probably someone who is here to help, judging by the chain of events. But before he could even take a step, the doors of the carriage burst open, and an invisible force pulled all the white figures into the carriage. The white figures struggled and shouted, Dumbledore recognized the language was not Mandarin, but Japanese. The door slammed shut before he could react. On rare occasions like that, Dumbledore frowned at how wrong his conclusion was. He seemed to be faltering, by simply only being in a different land. 

Silently, a figure walked past his bubble, causing Dumbledore to jerk away in response. He could make it out as a woman in a dark cloak. She walked towards the horse and held out something. Upon closer inspection now that imminent danger had seemingly passed, Dumbledore saw that the horse was not exactly white. It was emitting a translucent glow as though it was a ghost horse, especially those eyes that were hollowed out, and he could make out faint lines of the tree trunks right behind it. The horse bit whatever that was on her hand, and she stuck a piece of paper on the door of the carriage. She gave the carriage door two slams of her palm, and the horse gave a deafening neigh and took off into the distance.

Slowly, the woman turned and walked towards Dumbledore and his bubble. He watched cautiously as her steps were silent on the grass as though she was merely floating through. She stopped right before the bubble, with Dumbledore’s wand pointed right at her. She then raised both hands in front of her chest to form a fist with her right to an open palm of her left. She bowed her head and shoulders for a moment before straightening in a graceful motion. 

“A mister Dumbledore, I presume?” her voice clear, and her eyes sharp as she looked through the bubble at the foreigner. The sound of English was a relief to Dumbledore. In the dark of the night and with the protective bubble’s glow, he could see she is Chinese, a local perhaps.

“Yes,” he said, dissolving the bubble slowly.

“I am here to retrieve you. The Grand Master has been expecting your arrival, and you are very late.” She said, her voice was clear, but void of emotions. Without another word, she sidestepped him and walked on. Slightly bewildered, Dumbledore turned to follow, seeing how he had no other choice, and it would appear that this woman had just saved him.

Once out of the trees, under the moonlight, he could see on the back of her dark cloak, was an embroidered dragon, a similar one to the one he saw on the dish five days ago at the trade building. However, it looked nothing like the dragons he had seen before. The dragon on her cloak had a long and serpentine body, short arms and legs, and two long whiskers amidst a mane of hair around its head. It could be fatigue, but Dumbledore could have sworn he saw the embroidered dragon blinked at him.

“A Grand Master you say?” Dumbledore hurried to catch up with her. She said nothing until they have made their way down the immediate slope of the hill and toward a giant white stone that stood at the edge of another forested area.

“Yes, the Grand Master of China, the Owner of the Azure Dragon Palace. Are you not here to see him?” She stopped and turned to him, questioning with a hint of impatience.

Dumbledore contemplated to tell her the truth.

“He also mentioned something about a blank page. That you will know what that is about.” She turned completely to face him, seeing how he was unresponsive. Dumbledore’s eyes widened.

“Yes, a blank page at the back of a golden phoenix book.” Dumbledore nodded. Her frown dissolved slightly, but her face remained stoic.

“Then follow me.” She turned abruptly and headed into the forest. Dumbledore held his arm in pain and followed quickly. The forest was thick, but the woman did not seem to have any trouble moving through the dense undergrowth. Ahead all he could see were trees, and he avoided most of them as best as he could. She stopped finally in front of another giant white stone. Turning to him, she ushered him to the stone. Dumbledore decided not to hesitate, and seeing how this looked quite familiar, he took a step forward, and the stone was no longer there.

Instead, he emerged to the start of an ancient Chinese shop-house street, except it was dark at night and only the paper lanterns hung from the doorways were the light sources. The woman emerged behind him and walked forward. None of the shops the were opened, nobody was around, not even a single movement in the buildings was observed. Dumbledore hurried to keep up as she stopped after passing two main doors to the right of the street. There was a wooden sign above the door, faded which Dumbledore did not know how to read, anyway. She knocked on the door in a rhythmic sequence, and the door creaked open. Again, she sidestepped and ushered Dumbledore into the dark house.

She closed the door behind them and almost immediately the candles on the table lamps lit. Dumbledore then saw they are standing in what appears to be a dining hall of a tavern, with tables of different capacities scattered throughout the expansive room. The woman gestured to a wooden bench at one of the tables then walked towards a counter. She knocked on the wooden counter three times and waited. Nothing. She knocked again, slightly faster, as though impatient to have been kept waiting.

 _“Sigh, who is it? At such a late hour! Don’t you know what time it is already? Why wake an old man up have you no manners!”_ an old moaning voice came. Dumbledore looked up to expect an old man to walk out. Instead, a transparent ghost of an ancient man floated out, adjusting his glasses, whining. The woman stood still, and the ghost looked up to see her, gave a bewildered look before noticing Dumbledore. _“Who-Who is this! At this hour what is happening? Why did you bring him here?! What happened to his arm?”_

The woman again said nothing but walked towards the table where Dumbledore is and tapped at the teapot sitting in the middle. The old ghost seemed utterly reluctant, but gave a huff and floated back into the wall.

“Please take a seat.” She said finally, looking at Dumbledore who was still standing, unsure what to make of the situation. Dumbledore then held his injured arm and slid onto the bench. At that moment, the teapot that she had tapped previously began to rumble slightly. The woman paid no attention to it, but took off her cloak and placed it on the table neatly. In the light, Dumbledore could take a good look at her.

She looked young, with pale skin, brown eyes and jet black hair which was braided into a bun at the base of her head. A beautiful silver hair stick with the same dragon as her cloak was stuck in the bun with intricate beads dangling off the edge that swayed with each move she made. Modestly dressed in a plain blue qipao, she gave the air of a shrouded elegance, someone easily missed in the background. She reminded Dumbledore of the brilliant students that passed through his classroom, particularly Minerva.

The teapot stopped bubbling, and she tipped it over an empty teacup. The tea that poured had a brown tint and the hot vapor that rose from the surface was in one smooth continuous spiral.

“Drink the tea, it will help,” she said plainly. Dumbledore looked at her and she did not even blink. Slightly unwilling to consume something foreign, but at the same time not having other options, Dumbledore picked up the tea. Expecting it to be boiling hot, Dumbledore found that it was quite cool to the touch and took a small sip. He could feel the pain in his arm slightly subsiding almost immediately, so he took a larger mouthful.

Before his eyes, the metal embedded in his arm popped out one by one and onto the floor as though his skin was forcing them out. He drank more, and he saw the wounds closing until there was nothing left, except his torn shirt that was stained with blood.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to say something, when the old ghost came floating back, muttering unhappily. He complained at something, then pointed to the two guests at the table and upwards, and then muttered about something else before disappearing again. The woman ignored his words and stood up to pick up her cloak.

“He says room number three is available upstairs. I will be here tomorrow morning to bring you to the Grand Master.” She said as she threw on her cloak and pinned the mandarin collar to keep it on her shoulders.

“Thank you, Miss-” Dumbledore left his sentence hanging, having realized he had not asked for her name.

“My name is SuYang, an administrator of the Azure Dragon Palace.” she gave another salute and bow. “Have a good evening.”

“Thank you, Miss. SuYang.” Dumbledore dipped his head. She then swept past him and went out through the door into the night.


	4. Stairs

The next morning Dumbledore woke to the rousing cries of several roosters, each sounding further than the one before. He squinted as he looked up and remembered where he was. Looking outside of his window that was keeping the room cool in the night, Dumbledore sat up slightly on the wooden bed that was lined with a thin layer of mattress. It was incredibly hard to sleep on but surprisingly refreshing and comfortable than the springs that he was used to. The roosters outside cried again, signaling the rising sun that is peeking out from the top of the high trees in his window view, he decided it was time to wake up.

As though reading his intention, the candle on the table lamp lit up with a small cozy flame. The sun outside is rising fast, the first rays peeking out of the horizon and lighting the sky aglow. Dumbledore turned his attention back to his oriental room and noticed the sound of running water behind an embroidered screen. He stood up and walked towards the screen panels with curiosity. At close range, he could see the stretched white cloth with intricate embroidery of a Chinese painting that was moving, just like the portraits at Hogwarts. There was a beautiful cherry blossom tree swaying in a breeze, and a lady in pink robes sitting on a stone bench under it, looking left and right as though waiting for someone. Behind the screen, Dumbledore saw a large wooden tub, steaming with warm water and the calming smell of herbs. There was a towel hanging on the screen and he understood the setting. Undressing, he hung his clothes on the screen, causing the woman in the embroidery painting to get up and leave. Dumbledore then climbed into the tub and sat down slowly, adjusting to the water temperature.

The bathwater was revitalizing, as Dumbledore felt a sense of calmness, self, and peace as though his world halted for a moment, just for him to recuperate. Everything else can wait, the steam that was engulfing him seemed to say. He inhaled the scent of the herbs and found he had no prior knowledge of what the herbs comprise, but it felt like something he definitely would want to indulge in once in a while. He looked at the arm that was injured yesterday and contemplated why, Albus Dumbledore, was not on form. As someone who had maintained a very high expectation of his own abilities, sustaining physical injuries was a concept that seemed farfetched. Being in a foreign country with no prior knowledge was no excuse for this lack of focus and vigilance, but the bathwater was too intoxicating that he soon found himself losing track of those self-conscious thoughts and drifting away again.

Then a sudden rapid rapping on the door broke his trance. A Chinese voice outside shouted something. Dumbledore sat up straighter and noticed, his bathwater had gone cold. The steam had stopped, and the scent had dissipated. The room is now completely lit with the morning sunshine, and the air he breathed was warmer than before. He could hear faint voices outside far away, as though the world around him had woken up and gone about its day. Shaking his head to wake himself, he stood up and grabbed the towel.

With a tap of his wand, the torn sleeve was repaired. With another wave, his clothes now smell clean and fresh. Feeling completely revitalized and energized, Dumbledore got dressed, pocketed his wand, and went outside. It appeared that he was not the only guest at the inn as soon as he opened the door.

Dumbledore came out to the corridor filled with people, walking to and fro the stairs that led to the main hall that he sat last night. They passed him by with a curious look, but said nothing and moved on. Following a man with plain traditional clothes that had walked in front of him, he climbed down the stairs and found himself back to the main hall that was bustling with activity. Sensing he was blocking the way, Dumbledore quickly found a tiny empty table by the side, two away from the one he was last night and sat down. Almost on cue, a tray floated towards him from behind and set down gently onto the table with a bowl of plain hot congee, what looked like fried dough in a plate, and a dish of vegetable with black sauce. The teapot on the table sprang to life and began brewing and pouring. Smiling with gratitude, Dumbledore picked up the porcelain spoon and began to eat his breakfast.

As he ate, he took the opportunity to watch the surrounding people. There were children brought in by their mothers, tired men who looked like they just recovered from a tremendous illness, working men whose limbs were wrapped in bandages but still with high spirits, and all of them were drinking the tea from the table, and eating the same food. The others who had finished headed upstairs, while some walked over to the counter and left tokens. Some people left money that clinked as they fell onto the wooden counter, others left fruits in baskets, some people left items that Dumbledore did not recognize. And everyone who left tokens gave a bow, said something in Mandarin, before leaving through the front door that was opened wide to the main street. From where he sat, Dumbledore could see the previously quiet street was now filled with human and animal traffic.

The ghost old man he met last night was then seen floating from the counter and to the back several times, muttering to himself grudgingly and not talking to anyone in particular. Dumbledore would very much like to talk to him if not for the language barrier, as he did seem like a person who would have great stories to tell, and precious information that he might need. Dumbledore set down his empty bowl and took another swig of the tea, and in that instant, he felt fully awake with great energy. Then the sound of rapid laughter drew his attention to the other side of the main hall, several wooden tables and benches away from him.

Two burly men with tattoos all over their arms and what seemed like medical patches on their faces and chests were sitting with their legs on the benches, and toasting each other with the teacups, making a ruckus. One of them turned his head around and shouted something towards the back, and a tray of food sailed across the hall towards them. He took a look at the food and appeared very unhappy. He then pointed at the tray and said something before waving it away.

Almost immediately, the ghostly old man floated out, this time perhaps with a legitimate reason to be angry.

 _“What is this? You don’t like my cooking? Then don’t eat! This is the fourth serving that you had eaten this morning! Don’t you see I have other people to attend to?!”_ The ghost chided loudly as he pointed a finger at the two of the men. The other man at the table slammed his palm on the table, knocking over the teacups and teapot and stood up.

 _“Hey old geezer, you’re already dead. What are you going to do, huh? The sign outside said_ _“_ _Serve the public without judgment”, that was written by YOUR ancestors!”_ he challenged and pointed back at the ghost. The main hall went silent as some turned to watch, others turned quickly away.

 _“Finish your food and get out! You’ve received enough treatment and I’ve done my part to my ancestors!”_ The ghost chided back as he made a sweeping motion with his finger towards the open door.

 _“So what if we don’t leave?”_ the first man stood and walked nearer to the ghost. _“What’s a ghost to do to us?”_

The ghost old man was both angry and flustered, his angry finger shivering in front of them, speechless and helpless. Dumbledore found himself so caught up with the action that he had failed to notice a very cold breeze had entered the main hall and people were staring at the door.

 _“Heh! Good timing! Take a look at this atrocity!”_ The old ghost then pointed to the door and then to the two burly men. Dumbledore turned to see a familiar figure standing in the doorway and couldn’t help but smirk.

As silently as she was yesterday, SuYang took two steps into the tavern, and all sounds seemed to escape. It was a simple action from her, almost effortless, as Dumbledore observed. A slow head turn in synchronization with a gentle blink of her eyes, she looked directly at the two men with a cold expression on her face. She said nothing as she stood on the same spot as she stared. The entire tavern seemed to be frozen in time, and nobody else moved. 

_“Let’s go, let’s go. Quickly.”_ One of the men said hurriedly after what felt like a painful minute of silence and patted the other with his hand. The two men then staggered together sideways, circling her around the perimeter of the tables as her head turned to follow their movement like a hunter. Once near the door, both men stumbled and ran outside.

In that instant, the tavern resumed its activities, people went back to eating and talking, utensils clanking, and tea brewing. SuYang then turned back to face Dumbledore and walked silently towards him. Dumbledore stood, as he has come to realize, he is a good height taller than her when she stopped just an arm’s length away from him. She raised her hands in the same salute.

“The Grand Master will see you now.” She said, her voice still as clear, but emotionless and stoic.

“It would be my pleasure.” Dumbledore dipped his head and picked up his coat. From under her cloak, she pulled out a small intricate blue drawstring bag. As Dumbledore put on his coat, she walked towards the counter and placed it down with both hands. Her eyes darted up to the ghost man who had just floated towards the counter, and Dumbledore could see she hid a smile behind that look, before turning to walk away.

 _“Eh, I wasn’t going to take your money because you chased those thugs away, but since you’ve paid so I’ll accept. You cannot take it back!”_ the old man from behind quickly said in a huff. SuYang did not pay attention to the ramble and stepped outside. Dumbledore gave a quick bow to the ghost man and followed suit.

Out in the street, Dumbledore could tell the massive difference of night and day. The town was bustling with an exorbitant amount of activities. People pushing and pulling carts loaded with goods and produce, shops were opened with even more stalls set up along the road selling snacks, food, vegetables, accessories, and even fortunes. Children were running around with windmills or candy in their hands, mothers buying things with baskets, men walking together and deep in conversations. Everyone seemed to be wearing either a mix of westernized clothing or traditional garments, and it made Dumbledore less obvious despite his height.

As he walked behind SuYang, he noticed that the crowd seemed to part for her. People turned to see her coming and avoided her path, some even gave her a small acknowledgment bow. Then they turned their attention to Dumbledore and resume staring and whispering. Trying to distract himself from the attention he was drawing, he picked up his pace and came alongside his guide.

“May I ask you a few questions?” Dumbledore said, looking sideways at her.

“The old ghost runs a recovery tavern. People who are injured or with ailments would visit him with a donation of their choice for his remedy, just as you have experienced last night.” SuYang said, her voice remained factual and emotionless.

“What is in the tea? The healing abilities are beyond what I’ve ever encountered.” Dumbledore said, feeling the spot where he was injured the night before.

“We revered it as Shennong Tea. It is a rare herb that requires a laborious and intricate refining process, and a combination of ninety-nine other herbs in precarious proportions to brew. It was invented by his ancestor, the Divine Farmer thousands of years ago.” She answered and went silent as they made their way past a shop selling women’s clothing. Glancing away from a tape measure that was floating in the air by itself, reminding him very fondly of Diagon Alley, Dumbledore then took the opportunity of silence to ask more.

“So where are we?” Dumbledore asked as they walked past a small stall selling exotic fruits that he had never laid eyes on before.

“We are in Huangshan Zhen, a hidden town in the Huangshan region for people like us.” She answered without stopping even though an oxen cart had just swerved to avoid her. The man on the cart apologized profusely, but she was unfazed and continued on. Dumbledore looked at the man, to see him saluting with his palm and fists with a smile and moving on.

“And the Dragon Palace?” He asked again, turning back to the street, only to find that it had ended abruptly. There were no more shops, no bustling road traffic, nobody in sight. Ahead of him was a set of majestic stone stairs, leading high up into the mountainous sky. There was a grand rectangular archway right before it with the same dragon he had seen multiple times across where signage would normally be.

“Is up ahead, upon the Azure Dragon Peak.” SuYang stopped and turned to him. “To reach the Palace, this is the only path. The Grandmaster awaits you at the top.”

Dumbledore could not take his eyes off the stairs while trying to comprehend her words. He squinted to get a better look up ahead, but despite his better foresight, he could only see the steps leading up into the clouds, there was no peak, no palace, just steps upon steps that eventually were obscured by clouds as it reached high enough. He peeled his gaze away and down towards his guide for any alternative means of transportation, but she remained stoic and expressionless.

“The Grand Master has a message for you,” SuYang said, sensing his trepidation and tilted her chin up at him with a serious face, as though reminding him of his place. 

“He who deliberates fully before taking a step will spend his entire life on one leg,” SuYang said slowly and clearly to avoid having to repeat herself. She then raised her hands in a salute and bow, leaving Dumbledore speechless and slightly confused. 

SuYang, as he had observed in the two short encounters he had with her, had very little words to say, it was as if she disliked talking so much that her words must serve a purpose or else she would rather remain silent for simplicity’s sake. Dumbledore could not guess her age, but if he would harbor a guess, he would put her in her late twenties early thirties, a point in most people’s life where they are gradually understanding how the world worked and honing their own style of survival. For SuYang, it would seem that while she was good at executing her appointed tasks, she also wanted nothing to do with more work than what is efficiently necessary. Dumbledore frowned as she looked up at him, reading his slight reluctance to climb what looked like a full day's worth of hike. It was perhaps the first sign of emotion that she had shown in the few hours of interaction with Dumbledore, that she gave him a slight tilt of her head and an ever tiny raise of her eyebrows that almost said “go on”. She then walked through the dragon archway and began her ascend. 

Dumbledore looked behind him at the street where he had come from. Nobody noticed his presence there, even the ones who were staring and whispering before had all disappeared, leaving him in a pin-drop silent area. He turned back to the stairs just in time to see the disappearing figure of his guide upon the stairs; her cloak swishing as she climbed step by step effortlessly. As he stepped forward to follow, he passed under the dragon archway towards his very first step; he looked up one last time to gaze upon the distance he needed to cover and realized his guide had vanished. 

Dumbledore halted a moment as he contemplated the words he just heard. He who deliberates fully before taking a step will spend his entire life on one leg. So perhaps it was a hint, to just proceed and not overthink this task that he was about to undertake. He was, after all, going to see a Grandmaster, someone seemingly of great importance, it would be counter-intuitively odd if he could walk up to a door and simply knock. Dumbledore straightened and stepped onto the first stair. It was a fairly low step, manageable and steady, so he took the next and the next. Soon he realized, he was climbing fairly easily. The air was cool, he was well fed, he was well on his way. Feeling confident, he leisurely tucked his hands into his pockets and took a moment to look around him.

On both sides of the stone stairs was tree-covered hills, and the higher he went, the grander the view it was. He must be somewhere elevated enough now, Dumbledore thought, as he looked out to several hilltops, adorned with trees and small houses in clusters. And faraway, some mist obscuring a grand set of mountain tops breaking through towards the sky, forming a breathtaking view. Smiling and feeling elated as his spirits lifted with the fresh mountain air, he continued to climb.

In a few more steps, Dumbledore reached a stone landing with a carved imprint of the serpentine dragon he had seen. The gaze of the dragon was piercing, as though watching him as he stepped onto the square. He thought to himself, Newt would have been delighted to be here, instead of him. Dumbledore’s mind began to wander, as he thought of how different he and Newt were. He remembered the words he said to him a long time ago to Newt, that he admired him for being someone who does not seek power or popularity. In another year, in another lifetime, these were all Dumbledore secretly coveted. Looking back, he couldn’t help but feel that he, Dumbledore, could very well be responsible for not just his family’s tragedy, but every other families’ tragedies that were a result of Grindelwald’s Global Wizarding War campaign. He had a hand in the initial inspiration, however tiny it now seemed, he had indeed been encouraging this foolish boy dream of his and Grindelwald’s. For that, Dumbledore knew he needed to take a portion of responsibility that the world is at its knees because of his actions as well as inaction. But that was why he had traveled all the way here, for an answer or resolution that he had finally admitted to himself that he did not know, and now he needed to see the Grand Master. He stepped over the dragon on the floor and was going to continue on his journey.

Dumbledore then noticed, to the side of the landing was a man sitting on the next step, resting. The man had a very dejected look on his face and looked up to notice Dumbledore’s presence. The man looked nothing over twenty, and he looked at Dumbledore, who gave him a smile. The boy did not care for it and instead, stared judgementally, before looking away, slightly angrier. Dumbledore was confused about his reaction but stopped himself from conversing knowing full well the potential of a language barrier. He looked up at the never-ending stairs and continued on.

Dumbledore looked around again, trying to distract himself from the stairs for a change of view and noticed something peculiar; the scenery had stayed the same. The same hilltops, clusters of houses, mountains in the distance. Not a tinge of elevation, not a tinge of a skewed angle as he looked out, it was exactly the same view as before. 

This was when Dumbledore began to be very aware of how much and how long he had climbed. The sun was now directly overhead, its rays hitting him directly on his face and shoulders through his coat, which meant it was about noon, which also meant he would have been climbing for close to three hours, non-stop. Yet the hilltops to his sides remained at the same height, the same trees, the same mist, and the same mountains. Getting slightly more befuddled, Dumbledore took the next few steps cautiously.

The sight of another landing was welcoming to Dumbledore as he picked up the pace to move towards the resting spot. But just as his head came level with the landing step, his eyes fell upon the boy he saw not long ago, still sitting there, resting.

Dumbledore hurried up and stepped, once again, on the same dragon carving, whose eyes followed him as he stepped up again. Then it hit Dumbledore; he had been climbing in a loop; it had been the same flight of stairs again and again for the last few hours. His immediate conclusion was, then he will never reach the top if that was the case. He needed a way to break out of the loop. He tried disapparating, concentrating hard on the top flight of stairs, but the same thing happened. He appeared somewhere on the steps, only to climb a little further and see the boy again.

Confused and tired, he took heed of the boy’s action and sat down on the step just before the landing to rest and think. He had an inkling that his knowledge of magic as he knows it, would not be particularly helpful here. There is something deeper, much more complex than what he initially perceived, that needed to be analyzed and understood before he could move forward. The mountain seemed to be questioning him of his intention, doubtful of his morals, or even rejecting his undefined resolve. The more he began to think about it, the more confused and frustrated he became. Dumbledore was gradually getting hungry and tired. His shirt, despite the winds, had begun to soak through, and his throat was scratchy from thirst and dry air. Uncharacteristic of him, Dumbledore began exploring his options if he was not able to make it up the stairs. He could go back down, back to the tavern for rest, or even go home. That would mean he had failed his mission, and he remained clueless of his next step. Despite being the teacher, Dumbledore began to question his life at this moment, for he had turned his back on all the lessons he spent most of his waking hours teaching to students. He felt like an angry teenager again, much like the boy sitting behind him.

Then, just like the drop of water falling into a calm pool in his mind, he remembered the last words of his guide, the message the person he was going to meet sent him. Reciting it over in his head, Dumbledore had an epiphany. It was not merely to not overthink; Dumbledore realized. It was an ingenious trick, an ardent test, set forth by the grandmaster. He not only needed to not think about his task at hand and how much more he had to climb, he also needed to remove all negativity that he held inside him, for each small thought had the ability to ripple out into something bigger, consuming his entire mind and heart, spiraling himself downwards, which was why he would always end up at the bottom, and climbing back up again, only to find himself at the beginning again. 

Dumbledore broke out into a small chuckle as he nodded in admiration to the man he was going to meet soon. He stood up and took a very deep mountain breath to clear his mind and reset himself. He turned towards the next flight of stairs, giving the resting boy a nod of goodbye, and closed his eyes.

He stuck out his leg and reached out to take a step, and another, keeping his eyes closed, his mind, focused solely on taking the next step, and the next one after. The moment he found himself worried about tripping, he paused and took a breath. Then another step, and another. With his eyes closed, his other senses heightened. He breathed steadily, the fresh mountain air filled his lungs and brought with it a hint of sweetness of flowers, his ears picked up the on the passing wind and a faint sound of voices in the distance. He continued, feeling the same peace and calm like this morning when he just woke up.

Dumbledore then heard a huff. A woman’s huff, in the midst of thousands of other voices echoing in the background. The air smelled different now; he knew was somewhere else. Opening his eyes slowly, he came level with the brown eyes of SuYang, standing on the last step to the top, her face betraying a hint of impatience.

“At least you took only four hours.” She said, her voice was steady but wavered slightly with annoyance. Dumbledore could not help it but give her a small smirk of achievement as he completed the last few steps. With a wide sweep of her cloak, she turned and walked ahead. Dumbledore smiled with an odd sense of satisfaction and happiness, something he had not felt for a while. Dumbledore took a look behind him, and he was sure he had arrived at the peak.

For beyond his vantage point, he was looking out to a sea of pure white clouds under an extremely pale blue clear sky that stretched for miles everywhere. Several other mountain peaks with sparse trees were rising out of the clouds, and he could see the silhouettes of eagles flying in the distance. Gone were the hills, or houses, or faraway mountains. He was right on top of one now. The sight was beyond breathtaking, Dumbledore could only smile as he beheld where he stood. He felt the familiar peace in his heart and mind, as he took a deep breath and turned around to follow his guide. 


	5. Azure

Dumbledore picked up his pace to catch up with his guide for a mere two steps and had to stop. His surroundings were beyond anything he has ever seen. The dragon palace stood as a magnificent monument that captured his attention immediately even at a distance. The silver top of the tiled roof glistened in the sunshine like a beacon. The two nearer structures, three tall stories high each with the corners adorned with gold dragon statues stood in front of the palace, paled only in slight comparison in terms of architecture. To the side, an eight-story pagoda lined with white stone stood alone, high into the clouds. Before him, was an expansive white marble square with hundreds of people of various ages, robed in light blue, practicing martial arts under the strict supervision of the surrounding teachers who wore a shade of blue sightly darker. The wind picked up and he could hear the rustle of pine trees that grew in abundance around the entire compound and into the mountains behind. Dumbledore felt humbled, very small in the presence of a world that had just expanded larger than what he knew. He could somehow understand why a test existed before anyone could reach the peak, and he felt an odd sense of calmness, knowing at the moment he knew so very little about the world outside.

“Have you concluded admiring the scenery?” SuYang’s voice broke his thoughts, and he gave a very charming but shy smile.

“I do apologize for the delay, but the beauty here is beyond any vocabulary I know.” Dumbledore took two strides forward to his waiting guide. She turned and continued on the empty white stone path lined by grey bricks of intricate carvings that separated the martial arts training students, leading straight to the first building before the palace.

 _“Senior Sister!”_ the nearest group of students they passed by halted their practice and echoed in unison with the same hand gesture and a bow that Dumbledore had received before. They then straightened and noticed Dumbledore walking behind, who gave them a smile that was not returned. Instead, the students turned sideways to give each other confused looks, but nobody spoke.

 _“Continue practice!”_ a teacher shouted from behind and the group of students snapped back to practice throwing a punch in perfect sync, and then a change of stance. The salutes and echoes continued as they passed through the square. Dumbledore, a teacher himself, could not help but feel a sense of awe and pride at how disciplined and focused the students were. SuYang then began to climb another flight of stairs, leading to the first hall. The gates were wide opened, with students moving in orderly groups. SuYang did not stop at any of the greetings and continued to head straight through the main hall.

Beyond the main hall, Dumbledore could see classrooms on each side, a very familiar sight to him. Each student had their own table, and they were holding books, paying attention to the lecturing teacher in front. He would pass by a class where they recited in unison something in Mandarin, then another class in utter silence where students were writing calligraphy on paper with brushes. Further in the school, was another set of classrooms, slightly bigger, another familiar sight. Students were in their various spots, practicing spells. What struck unusual to Dumbledore, was that they were not all holding wands. Some held paper fans, some were waving calligraphy brushes in the air as though writing and one of them even waved a cane. Looking ahead to say something, Dumbledore realized he had fallen behind again.

Picking up the pace, he followed SuYang out to the back of the school, to another white marble square, but smaller this time, leading up to the second administration building. There were no more students and everyone around was a working official dressed in traditional clothing of various colors and styles. The air reminded Dumbledore of the Ministry of Magic back in London and he gave the place a good look. The ceilings were high, with large paper lanterns lighting the interior. The different floors were connected by polished wooden stairs, going up to the different corridors where people were walking and talking, getting to places, or transporting goods. The tables that he could see immediately would occasionally have small fireballs appear randomly, and a piece of document would reverse burn and appear, where the occupant would pull out of the air to read. Well, perhaps a good way to eliminate the owl droppings problem back in the ministry, Dumbledore thought as he tried to process his surroundings as much as possible in the short time he’s being led through. He tilted his head up and saw a pair of familiar eyes staring at him. It took him a second to realize they belonged to a painting of a very similar dragon that seemed to follow him around. 

_“Eh! Lady SuYang! You have not signed the papers for the five convicts sent to Wu Jing Prison!”_ someone behind called, distracting Dumbledore from the dragon. SuYang did not turn still as they entered a very long, enclosed corridor with doors on both sides. A fireball then appeared beside her and she snatched the document that reverse-burned out of the air. Dumbledore could not see what she did, and a moment later she held it up and it burst into flames. A second later from behind someone shouted again. _“Ah, thank you! Lady SuYang!”_

Without stopping, she pushed opened the door at the end. The blinding sunlight caught him off guard as he recoiled and squinted, but he realized, it was not just mere sunlight. Upon closer inspection, the palace behind the admin building was emitting a blueish tinted glow from the inside, out from the windows that enhanced the overall refraction of light in the vicinity. There, he was greeted with another marble square, this time the floor was carved with characters to form concentric circles, linked by more characters. SuYang stepped onto the marble square and was about to head forward to the palace when she stopped.

Dumbledore followed and halted his steps to look at her. She turned her head to the left abruptly as though suddenly noticing something, and Dumbledore saw her narrow her eyes at a spot just outside the palace. There was a row of beautifully pruned giant bonsai pots, forming a hedge just under the stone railing of the elevated palace ground. Dumbledore watched as she stalked towards a particular bonsai, her footsteps as silent as before but her cape flew upwards as her strides lengthened before stopping right before it. Dumbledore, as much as he tried to muffle his steps, managed to hurry behind. There, he could see someone huddled behind the bonsai, crouched down, making small gleeful noises. Confused, he turned to SuYang, who was showing that tinge of annoyance and disapproval.

“Ahem!” She cleared her throat loudly, cracking the silence around the area.

“Waa!” The crouched figure gave the loudest cry of surprise and jumped so violently that he threw something into the air by accident that it rained down right in front of SuYang and Dumbledore. Orange peels, Dumbledore noticed and looked ahead to the figure that had just emerged from behind the bonsai.

 _“What is the meaning of this! You gave your master such a fright!”_ the old man who had just straightened clutched his chest as he heaved a few breaths and patted his chest to steady his breathing. Grudgingly, he then pushed himself out of the bonsai row as he continued patting his chest. Dumbledore saw he moved with quite an agility for someone of his age, judging from the sheer whiteness of his very short hair and beard, though even shorter than his own. _“You, are you trying to scare me to death?”_

SuYang did not move a single muscle on her face. Instead, she extended her right hand, palm upwards, as though demanding something. The old man gave her a very indignant look, but she did not waver. Eventually, with a sigh, he produced from his back something small and moving. Dumbledore peered closely and noticed it was a tiny, turquoise color baby dragon, the same one he has been seeing throughout his journey. The adorable baby dragon gave a tiny cry towards the old man, who gave it a helpless sigh and shrug. The baby then took tiny steps on his palm and hopped onto SuYang’s opened one. Almost immediately, the baby curled its long body, fitting onto the palm, and let its head hang on her fingertips. SuYang gave the old man a long look at which the old man stared back but broken by a small chuckle from Dumbledore as he watched the baby dragon gave a yawn.

It was as though it took this long to notice his presence, the old man gave a gasp and pointed at him while looking to SuYang, uttering random sounds because he was at a loss for words. SuYang remained silent as she took a deep breath, as though she had given up on a task she did not even begin. With an acknowledging nod to Dumbledore, she turned on her heels and walked towards the palace steps.

 _“His mother said he could come out to play! I had permission!”_ The old man shouted after her pointedly. Dumbledore half-expected her to turn around, half-expected her to keep walking as she did throughout the day whenever someone talks to her. The old man then gave a huff and dusted his hands on his pristine white long shirt with a row of mandarin collar and knots before remembering that Dumbledore was there. Dumbledore then prepared to give a bow to introduce himself, but he was a tad too slow. 

“Ah! Hahaha! Mr. Dumbledore! It is such a pleasure to have such a distinguished guest from across the world.” the old man grabbed Dumbledore’s hand with both of his and shook it enthusiastically up and down.

“You,” Dumbledore stopped for a moment, his hand still being shaken that his entire shoulder began to move. “You speak English.”

“Yes! I have traveled to the west many years ago, and the language is so beautiful I had to learn,” he exclaimed and nodded with a vigor that was quite a mismatch for a man of his age. “Let me introduce myself, I am Jiang. Welcome to the Azure Dragon Peak.”

It was a plain introduction, nothing fancy or exaggerating, no titles or stature, just a name and a welcome. Dumbledore was instantly taken aback. He had expected to meet someone of very high status who was strict and formal, as he had observed through SuYang and the students that he passed. But instead, he met a welcoming jovial old grandfather filled with life and zest.

“My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am a teacher at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Dumbledore said quickly, returning a smile to the man.

“Teacher! I am a teacher too! Have you seen our school?” He quickly gestured beyond the administration building.

“Yes, and it is most outstanding an institution.” Dumbledore laughed along. The old master gave a humble smile.

“Oh thank you, Mr. Dumbledore, thank you. Hearing that from a fellow teacher means very much to me.” the old master held his hand tightly again. “Come, come, we have so much to talk about. I have been most looking forward to meeting you.”

“You knew I was coming?” Dumbledore asked, quite bewildered as he let the old master usher him to the side of the compound. The path was paved with white stone and lined on both sides with pine trees that provided a much-needed shade in the afternoon.

“Yes!” the old master nodded happily as he led the way. “I saw a beautiful phoenix fly across the sea.”

The old master raised his hand to imitate a bird sailing through the air.

“At first I thought it was Master Yuan coming to visit me,” he said seriously. “But that cannot be true, because she owes me money for a very long time that she refuses to acknowledge.”

That was not quite what he expected, Dumbledore thought as he hid his chuckle.

“Then I looked again, the phoenix was sad, disconcerted.” the old master said and looked sideways with a thoughtful smile at Dumbledore. “Master Yuan is never sad, even when I beat her at mahjong, something she claims never happened till this very day.”

This time he could not help it, Dumbledore laughed, even though he had no idea what mahjong is.

“You should laugh more often, it keeps you young on the inside and elevates your spirits.” The old master pointed and walked on, before realizing something and turning back to yell into the air. “SuYang!”

He turned back and led the way to the edge of the compound where stone-carved railings separated what was safe and certain death beyond the cliff. Beyond that, was another breathtaking sight of being in the clouds, overlooking the marvel of nature’s canvas dotted with mountain peaks.

“A Master Yuan you say?” Dumbledore asked, planning on avoiding the sad and disconcerted phoenix for the time being.

“Yes, there are four of us.” Master Jiang said, holding up four fingers. “I am Jiang of the Azure Dragon Palace.”

He pushed one finger down comically and looked up at Dumbledore with a very child-like twinkle.

“Then there is Master Yuan, Mistress of the Vermillion Bird Tower.” he pushed one more finger down. “A Master Tang of the White Tiger Forest, and a Master Ao of the Black Turtle Island.”

He stepped back to give himself some space and raised his hands just like what SuYang did.

“We are the four masters of magic arts in China. And I have been elected to lead our community, thereby given the name Grand Master.” He gave Dumbledore a deep bow. Dumbledore stepped back to give an awkward bow, to which the old master returned him a kind smile.

“There are four schools of magic in China?” he quickly asked.

“Yes, each in a different part of China.” the master nodded. “China is very big.”

“In Britain we one school with four houses.” Dumbledore mused. The old master turned to listen intently with curiosity. Dumbledore smiled and nodded inwardly. Indeed, they have much to talk about.


	6. Mind

“Squid? A giant one?” Master Jiang gestured with his arms spread to measure the size of the squid. 

“Yes, it lives in the lake on the school grounds.” Dumbledore nodded and laughed as the two teachers walked along the footpath, surrounded by flowerbeds, pine trees, and the picturesque mountain ranges. “When I was a student, there was a dare amongst the students, that if anyone is able to swim across the lake, without disturbing the squid, will pass all their exams with Outstanding grades. Of course, the squid is not dangerous in any way, so that was never proven because nobody has ever been able to swim that far.” 

Master Jiang clapped his hands excitedly, like a child listening to fairy tales. Conversing with him, Dumbledore felt a giant weight lifted off his shoulders. It was like talking to a peer, a very like-minded close friend who is awaiting scores of his travels, like an ever-ready ear to listen to anything he has to say. For a moment, Dumbledore actually forgot why he was here and was much more eager to talk to this person and make his acquaintance.

“Our school is built so high up in the sky, only birds would visit.” Master Jiang gestured to the sky. “One time, on a very stormy day, a giant thunder roc landed on one of the big pine trees just beside the school. It was as if the tree was struck by lightning, that it split apart and burst into flames immediately!” Dumbledore listened intently with a big smile on his face, basking in the lifted spirits that he found himself in, but quickly was distracted by the growing chatter of students in the school compound. He turned to look at how they are organized in rows and groups as they made their way into the building. 

“Ah, it is lunchtime.” Master Jiang said. “Come, Mr. Dumbledore, let us dine too, you must be hungry after a long climb.”

In his excitement, he had forgotten his last refreshment has been thoroughly exhausted by the climb. Nodding with relief, he followed the old master into the school building. 

_“Master!”_ Everyone they passed, stopped short and bowed with a salute. Master Jiang nodded and acknowledged them with a serene chuckle and nod like he was speaking to grandchildren, as he made his way towards the school’s dining hall. The crowd of students parted to make way for their teacher and his guest, and it was clear that there was a great structure that the school’s education emphasized. As Dumbledore followed behind, he noticed an immediate difference between the great hall in Hogwarts, and here. 

There were rows upon rows of tables with long wooden benches just like the ones he saw at the tavern. Students lined to collect their food at the side of the hall where several members of staff were handing out bowls and serving food with ladles and thongs. In an orderly fashion, the students of all ages chatted while waiting for their turns, collected their food and joined their peers at the tables. There was no segregation, everyone belonged to the same unit and dined together.

“Mr. Dumbledore this way, please.” Master Jiang gestured to the front of the dining hall, where there were circular tables and individual wooden carved stools. The old master rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “I wonder what is for lunch today.”

Dumbledore smiled and followed, as they approached the round tables, they could see another row of counters at the back where the staff was cooking and serving food that was slightly more complicated. The cooks were mastering several stoves with blue flames and waving their hands as though controlling the activities like a puppeteer with strings. Pots were stirred, woks were tossed, and knives chopped away massive amounts of vegetables and fruits. 

_“Master Jiang, please enjoy.”_ One of the staff brought out a black polished wooden tray and handed it with a bow to the old master. Dumbledore saw a bowl of rice, several small dishes of meat and vegetable, a cup of tea and a lovely cut piece of fruit in the shape of a tiger.

 _“Thank you. Ah, please another set for my guest.”_ Master Jiang gestured to Dumbledore and took his tray. The staff nodded immediately and began waving his hands, pulling with an invisible force various items in his station. A spoon scooped rice into a china bowl, a pair of large chopsticks picked out the smaller dishes, and a teapot began to pour tea into a porcelain cup. What had Dumbledore’s attention was a knife in midair right above the tray, slicing and dancing around a melon, and in the next moment, a beautiful peacock shaped melon landed on a separate dish, completing his assorted lunch tray. The staff then handed the tray with a bow to Dumbledore, who accepted it with a bow.

“Xie Xie.” He said, trying his best to follow the right pronunciation of the term as he heard over the days. The staff then gave another bow and went about his business. Dumbledore then followed Master Jiang towards the table as they carried their food and sat down together. The hall was filled with chatter, spells, tiny explosions, and laughter. It was as though he was back in Hogwarts, watching the start of the school feast. 

“Please, enjoy.” Master Jiang urged, and Dumbledore picked up the spoon. Students who have finished their food and happened to pass by their table would stop to give a bow and salute before going on. 

“Your students are very disciplined and well-mannered,” Dumbledore said, as two girls passed them with a bow. 

“Yes, they are, and I am proud to hear your praise for them. Respecting your elders is a very important part of cultivating one’s self.” Master Jiang paused in the midst of his food inhalation to explain. The old master appeared to be devouring his food at an alarming rate as if he was starved for the entire morning. Dumbledore barely made it through a mouthful of rice and pork, and Master Jiang had gotten up to get a refill. 

“Are the students selected by yourself or the other masters?” Dumbledore asked as he scooped a spoonful of rice. 

“Oh no, no.” Master Jiang laughed as he set down his bowl to take a sip of his tea as he settled back on his seat. “The student decides which Master they want to learn from, and makes their journey to seek tutelage.” 

“And you accept all students who come to you?” Dumbledore inquired further. 

“Yes, of course. Every single one of them, who passed the test.” He gave Dumbledore a coy smile as he picked up his bowl again, with his chopsticks he picked a piece of meat and sent it in his mouth. 

“The test of climbing the mountain?” Dumbledore asked. “He who deliberates fully before taking a step will spend his entire life on one leg.”

Master Jiang closed his eyes and savored the quote like savoring the meat he is eating. 

“My dear Mr. Dumbledore.” He smiled and turned to him with a lower voice. “That, was a hint for you, specifically.” 

Dumbledore was taken aback as he contemplated his words. The master raised an eyebrow to look at him more intently, to which Dumbledore felt as though the master was looking for something else in his blue eyes like he was searching for the answer to who he is. The master then gave a smile, then straightened and picked out more food to eat. 

“You see Mr. Dumbledore, everyone’s life is different, everyone has a talent, everyone has a vice. And every single one of them is so vastly different.” The master leaned back on his stool and explained. “The mountain tests the person’s ability to look deep within oneself and reflect what needs to be done, and more importantly, the willingness to believe yourself, as well as things that you have yet known. Only when you know yourself and believe you have the power to do anything, can you then put down the past no matter what had already happened and learn forgiveness towards others and yourself. To begin a journey of self-discovery and cultivation requires one to be openhearted and determined with perseverance.” 

The master had devoured all his food, so he picked up his cup of tea and began to savor the aroma. Dumbledore continued to eat in silence, as he internalized the master’s words. Learning forgiveness, put down the past, were the two things that called out to him the most, and he knew exactly why. But why did Master Jiang point that out specifically, he was quite unsure and wary of. He looked at the master with a stolen glance, and he saw the master smiling at him. 

“I see you are beginning to understand the test and my hint.” He said, holding out his tea to show him. He gave the cup a small shake, the drink inside vibrated with tiny conflicting ripples. “Your mind before was just like this tea. Agitated, full of thoughts that are finding reasons to contradict themselves to eliminate the weakest to find the right answer, pushing violently against its containment and boundaries.”

He continues to shake the cup, and a few drops of tea began to spill splatter out of the tip.

“When it all gets too much, some would escape, and thereby affecting what is around it.” He continued, holding out the hem of his long shirt where the brown tea made splatters of tiny stains. “But when you allow your mind to settle,”

The old master stopped, the tea in the cup swirled less vigorously and began to settle very quickly. He held it closer to Dumbledore, and he looked down at the contents. Slowly, the reflection in the cup was forming a more complete picture with less distortion and rested on a single image. Dumbledore saw his own reflection.

“You can then see clearly what it is, what you seek, and what you need to do next.” The master smiled as Dumbledore looked up. With a chuckle, he raised his cup and drained the entire contents of the cup. “Do not feel bad for the young fellow you met along the way.”

Dumbledore paused in mid-sip of his own tea and looked up with a small frown. Did the master know that he had a potential student coming? Perhaps the carving of the dragon on the landing told him so.

“He is not ready. His heart is still filled with anger and ego, and he finds it very hard to put down the past. I very much hoped that he could one day ascend and join his fellow brothers and sisters here. That is if he can open his heart.”

Dumbledore could only nod, his mind was once again clouded but in a slightly more organized manner. There will be much to think about, and perhaps the right time to think about it would present itself here. After all, the grandmaster did say, to look within

“But let us not dwell on that. Come, Mr. Dumbledore.” Master Jiang said, his vigor returned after a hearty meal and he rubbed his belly, satisfied. Dumbledore stood with the master and noticed all the students have already gone while his mind was preoccupied. Lunch was over, and the students have probably gone back to their lessons. He looked around the quiet dining hall and noticed, sitting at the table behind him, was SuYang, eating silently by herself. She did not look up, Dumbledore noticed. Her actions were very ladylike as she picked up the food with her chopsticks and ate with her attention solely focused on the food ahead of her. Master Jiang turned to see her too and merely remarked with an “ah”, before ushering Dumbledore to go with him.

Once out of the dining hall and back into the school’s main building, Dumbledore was led to the second floor outside the corridor of the school that overlooks the marble square. There he saw a different set of students practicing martial arts in different sections, each learning a different set of moves. Master Jiang stood in the shade of the building as he watched them thoughtfully. 

“Is this part of their curriculum?” Dumbledore asked. 

“Yes, and a very important part too.” Master Jiang answered. “When you strengthen the body, training of the mind becomes much easier. Martial arts not only train physical abilities but also cultivates discipline and respect. Only when one is in proper control of themselves, can they move on to learn deeper and more powerful skills.” 

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. It was nothing that he didn’t think he didn’t know, but at present, he felt like a blank slate, waiting to be written on with new knowledge and wisdom, immersing himself in something he could further understand. There was excitement and eagerness in his mind, a sensation that he thought was lost to his age. 

“Those men who attacked you in the forest, unfortunately, lacked this very basic foundation.” The master continued with a hint of a smile as he stroked his short beard on his chin. Dumbledore opened his mouth and closed it quickly. “They were once students who studied at the Japanese school of magic, Mahoutokoro.”

“Yes, they are one of the registered schools in the East. I remember that now, their uniforms turned white when they betrayed the code of ethics.” Dumbledore said slowly. He knew this piece of information, but somehow it took him long enough to piece everything together. He really felt like he lost his touch, something Dumbledore was very uncomfortable about.

“Indeed.” Master Jiang continued. “They were expelled students before and escaped punishment. Out of desperation, they found work in the present day with war, where they are employed as mercenaries for the Japanese Imperial Army’s secret division. It would have been chaos within the army itself should everyone finds out about magic.” 

To that, Dumbledore said nothing but remained silent as he watched the students in the square practice. As a teacher, this information pains him, especially knowing how a stellar student of his own was expelled but maintained a very highly regarded set of morals, so he pushed them aside, eager to ask something that has been bothering him for a while now.

“Master Jiang, pardon me for being forward but you seem to know quite a fair bit despite not leaving the school or the palace. Am I right to say that you possess the rare gift of the Sight?” Dumbledore asked. Master Jiang broke into a hearty laugh, so hearty that he clutched his stomach and heaved a few deep breaths. Having witnessed his eccentricity, Dumbledore was not surprised at this reaction, so he waited patiently with a calm smile, knowing that he was very sure he was right about this.

“Yes Mr. Dumbledore, fortunately, or perhaps, unfortunately, I do possess the Sight.” Master Jiang said, having stopped laughing with a heave of a deep breath. “But I know what you must be thinking. I do not do predictions. Neither do I see into the future for myself.”

Dumbledore turned to face the master, intrigued by the answer.

“You see, the mind is a very peculiar thing. The more you try not to think of something, you are already thinking about it. And yet when you think about something, you do not seem to think about it very thoroughly.” Master Jiang elaborated, watching Dumbledore’s face. 

“That is why, when you do not know, there are endless possibilities. But when you do know, you have only one road. Even if you take the path to avoid it, you usually find yourself ending up at the same place.” The master continued, with a twinkle in his eye. 

At this moment, Dumbledore couldn’t help but feel, that everything the master has said so far, has a deeper underlying meaning that was meant for him to reflect upon. It was ironic, that he came all this way to find answers, but he was met with more questions to answer yet in somewhat a very fitting way that works in his own favor.

He took a deep breath, with a smile on his face as he nodded at the old master. He was always the teacher, but today, he became a student. Or perhaps the moment his journey began, he was already a student for a subject that he thought he already understood. But just like the test he undertook this morning, perhaps it was time Dumbledore opens his heart and mind once again to put down his past and begin a thorough journey of becoming himself.

The master returned his smile before turning back to watch his students, his expression suddenly unreadable. Dumbledore wondered if it was his reaction to his generous advice that had come off as rude or disrespectful, but his answer came fairly quickly. 

A resonating deep bell rang through the air, breaking the sound of students practicing. Dumbledore turned towards the source of the bell and saw atop of the eight-story pagoda next to their building was a huge bell that was repeatedly hit by a thick handle. The students in the square panicked, and their supervising teachers began to shout for them to return to the main building orderly, as they looked towards the sky, as though anticipating something.

“Aiya… they have returned, what a damper to such a beautiful afternoon.” Master Jiang lamented as he folded his arms and shook his head. Dumbledore looked at the calm master and felt a sudden chill in the middle of the afternoon. The sun seemed to have dimmed, the air turned very cold and foul. Dumbledore began to feel a sudden sense of sadness, and he had a feeling he knew why. 


	7. Expecto

The once sunny and mystical Dragon Peak was instantly doused with a shadow like a world passing through an eclipse. The scattering students running for cover looked up briefly to see darkness taking over their educational sanctuary. The younger students began to scream as the darkness intensified, leaving a mere few scattered beams of remaining sunlight, the teachers began to shout louder over the terror trying hard to maintain order. Dumbledore looked up into the overcast sky and around to see the source, and he knew intrinsically what was coming. He looked to the master next to him as the wind bringing about the chill picked up for a plan, but the old man just sighed unhappily, giving no indication of taking action upon this invasion. 

_“Protect the juniors!”_ Someone in the crowd shouted, and Dumbledore heard several slams of doors from under his corridor and outburst the older students, some running out, some leaping over banisters and bushes to surrounding compound as the junior staff panicking their way into the shelter. 

_“Summon! Guardian Spirit!”_ They began to echo the same phrase on after another, whipping out the fans, brushes, short scepters, and things Dumbledore has never laid eyes on before. Others running as they shouted to cover more ground, and from the ends erupted bright silver animals at each direction of the school, pushing back the shadow. His voice caught in his throat as he watched the color contrast take over the entire square.

“Patronus charms.” Dumbledore whispered. 

“I beg your pardon?” Master Jiang turned to him, his attention momentarily distracted by a silver condor flying high towards the sky, its flapping wings almost sweeping their heads. 

“They are casting Patronuses…” Dumbledore pointed at a silver tiger that hopped onto the second-floor railing and up higher. 

“Is that what you call it in Britain?” the master became intrigued again, somehow missing the point and ignoring the seemingly perilous situation they were in. “We call it the Guardian Spirit Summon. Because each of them is like a guardian against dark forces and takes a different form that is dearest to the summoner.” 

“I mean yes, but,” Dumbledore leaned over the railing to see the various Patronuses have formed a protective barrier around the school and the square as the rest of the students filed in. He tore his eyes away to look at the master who was waiting for his next words. “That is incredibly advanced magic, the Patronus Charm is notoriously difficult to master.”

“Is that so?” Master Jiang nodded thoughtfully, as he turned to his senior students below casting more animals and clapped and cheered as a horse galloped into the air and knocked back a shadow. “That is why Mr. Dumbledore, if you train the mind first, everything else would follow.”

The master tapped at his temple and gave a smile. Dumbledore turned to look back at the younger students funneling towards the entrance, as the seniors and teachers continued creating the barrier. With the silver sheen of the patronuses, the shadow was more pronounced. Dumbledore’s hunch was right. There were hundreds upon hundreds of Dementors floating above the light barrier, the unmistakable rotting hands trying to reach out of the black hoods that covered their bodies. He could no longer see the front of the school, obscured by dark cloaks and black wisps that have invaded almost half the training square. But his eyes caught a small huddled form beside a stone statue by the side, just outside of the barrier of silver.

“There’s a student left behind!” Dumbledore exclaimed and pointed towards the child, his protective urges lurched him forward and the handle of his wand fell out of his sleeve. But another student was faster. He saw someone broke out of the barrier and ran towards the little boy who had buried his head with his hands. There were hurried cries and screams as everyone’s attention turned. The slightly older student with braided hair ran ahead and pointed a small stick in the air but nothing happened. A few seniors ran forward in an attempt to get to her and the other student but were immediately confronted with more Dementors that swarmed towards them when they get too far from the protective barrier and they were forced to cast another Patronus right in front of them to fend off the foulness. The small student outside began to scream and the older one threw herself on top of the boy to protect him, with her stick still in the air, she cried spell after spell but to no effect. 

Dumbledore could not take it anymore, he looked around for the nearest way to go down and pulled out his wand. Then he felt something grab him. It was Master Jiang. His eyes began to dance with excitement as he pulled Dumbledore back and pointed. Dumbledore was utterly perplexed by his behavior and he felt a slight anger surge.

“Look, look!” he began to point and jump. Bewildered at this very ridiculous reaction, Dumbledore turned painfully to look at the direction he pointed with impatience. He could feel his tension ease a little, as he saw a familiar dark cloak with an embroidered dragon, standing behind the two juniors. “Ah, hahaha.”

The master gave a small gleeful laugh, just like the one Dumbledore heard a while ago, and waved his hand. From behind them, two cups sailed through the air and landed on the railing in front of them. The master picked up one and sipped while watching intently, as though he was enjoying a show. Dumbledore stood rooted to the ground, with his wand out, dumbfounded. He could hear, even though softly, SuYang was saying something amidst the chaos. 

_“You can accomplish nothing if you are caught in panic.”_ Dumbledore squinted and saw the older student looked up at SuYang, her face filled with tears. _“Be still like water_.”

Dumbledore could not understand what she said, but watching how she was unaffected by the Dementors swarming around her, he could suddenly understand why the old master was not flustered. Dumbledore gripped the banister of the corridor tightly, in his heart he prayed silently and watched as the young girl wiped her face with her sleeve, and turned around, still huddled over the little boy. Then with an energy burst, she pointed her stick into the air and shouted the incantation. 

A silver wisp shot from the end of the stick and pushed at a circling Dementor, catching it off guard, but in less than a few moments the silver dissolved into the air. Master Jiang gave an outburst of glee as he jumped and clapped his hands. Instead of feeling despair, the little girl turned to look at SuYang with a smile despite the immense depressing influence of the Dementors. Dumbledore pressed a palm to his heart, having realized suddenly how hard it had been beating, and how long he had held his breath. He saw SuYang pulled off her cloak and dropped it over the two juniors. In that instant, the small boy looked up as though waking up from a nightmare.

 _“Remember that. Well done. Now take him and go inside.”_ SuYang said as she stepped to the side, leaving a clear path down the square towards the protective barrier. 

_“Thank you, Senior Sister!”_ The little girl squeaked as she pulled the boy up who was still scared but determined, and the two ran towards the barrier with the cloak wrapping tightly around them. The Dementors from behind swarmed towards the two figures but were instantly slapped backward by a very shiny bright passage of light. The two students cowered but continued running. Dumbledore recognized it to be the same one that sent his assailants back the night before. The other seniors were waving at the two juniors who were huddling towards them, and they push forward with their barriers, to shelter the two once they get close. The two students then fell to the ground, exhausted. One of the teachers nearby hurried over to check on them. 

The white light then retracted, this time Dumbledore could see clearly where it went. The light then bent and whipped at the Dementors, clearing a space around SuYang. Dumbledore could see she remained expressionless as she turned her head to survey her situation, taking every step cautiously. The bright whip in her hand swished as she moved. There was something calming about her despite the situation around that made Dumbledore curious about the education she received hereunder Master Jiang’s tutelage, something that appealed to the teacher in him. At the same time, he couldn’t help but feel that there was something about this place that confirms to him that he was right to come here.

“Ahh, there it is! There it is!” Master Jiang blurted his tea as he pointed again. SuYang spun around on the spot in a graceful but powerful circle, and the light followed her motion and whipped at three more Dementors and clearing a bigger space for herself. 

“What is that?” Dumbledore couldn’t help but ask as the light bent and swished, at times rigid like a whip and others as soft as a ribbon when SuYang spun the handle with her wrist. Every step she took, every turn she made, every twist of her whip turned the fight into a dance. Every dementor that approached was repelled by the recoil of her light from turning the whip back after hitting another, every shadow was kept at bay in an invisible dome that was drawn by her movements. It took perhaps a few more seconds for Dumbledore to realize it was multiple beams of light that she was maneuvering as the swarm became aggressive.

“Oh, that is SuYang’s nine-tail whip. I am very proud of her because she fashioned that out of a nine-tailed demon fox in the northern mountains that were terrorizing the people. It is one of a kind!” Master Jiang said, brimming with pride as he clapped some more, as she gave a small somersault to kick up nine of the beams, jumping onto the statue earlier for elevation before spinning to a balancing stop. 

“So a nine-tail fox’s tail is a repellent of Dementors, like positive energy?” Dumbledore asked, confused, watching SuYang extend the light beams further as she leaped to another statue, coming closer to the school.

“Oh no, no. The fox was very evil. It devoured villages upon villages of people. It has shape-shifting powers, but that is all. What is pushing back these, Dementors you call it is simply SuYang herself.” Master Jiang waved away a stray wisp of the black shadow that had floated too close to them with disgust.

“The guardian spirit takes the form of whatever you hold dearest, but it is still your energy, your willpower that is projected in a spectral form channeled through whichever medium you choose to protect you.” Master Jiang explained and gestured to the wand still in Dumbledore’s hand. 

“So is that why the students have various types of wands?” Dumbledore asked. “And SuYang’s whip is her wand, a spell-casting equivalent?” 

“Your observations are very astute Mr. Dumbledore.” Master Jiang marveled. “Yes, and no. Yes, my students have chosen items that they most identify with for their use before adapting it to the wand that had chosen them. But no, the whip is not SuYang’s wand.” 

Master Jiang said and pointed again at the square. Dumbledore saw, in its full form, the nine tail whip extended, in all directions, each wrangling a Dementor that was struggling with the energy. With a swing, the azure figure cracked her whip and sent them flying backward with strangled cries. SuYang straightened herself, but another swarm was ready to fill in the gap. She retracted her whip, just as Dumbledore had seen before. The light from the whips shot back onto her hand in a gentle swish and faded. She then turned around to face the rest of her school. 

_“Everyone, at the ready!”_ Someone below shouted. Dumbledore looked over the banister and saw her pull out the hair stick in her hair and pointed it upwards. Below him, a unanimous echo of the incantation erupted. 

Instantly, another series of animals erupted from the ground and upwards. SuYang’s dragon joined the ranks of the other Patronuses in the sky to push back all the Dementors. Dumbledore watched as all the Patronuses rose into the sky, their bright beams shining through the Dementor swarm to blind them, and came together in a very bright explosion of silver light. Dumbledore shielded his eyes for a moment and missed the sky returning to its normal afternoon sun as the hundreds of Dementors scattered in all directions into nowhere. 

The square was silent as everyone looked up into the sky, welcoming the sunshine. The students who had fought lowered their wands and checked their surroundings, but nothing returned. The silence was broken by Master Jiang, who gave very hearty applause as he looked over the railing at the seniors outside who have been helping to defend the school. Everyone looked up towards him.

 _“Everyone, very spectacular work today. I am very, very proud of every one of you. I am sure everyone is feeling very tired, so let us cancel the rest of the classes today shall we?”_ He shouted over the railings. The students murmured in excitement. _“Now, head towards the dining hall, have some sweet desserts to calm yourselves, retire early tonight and have a good rest.”_

Everyone below echoed a _“Yes Master!”_ so loud that Dumbledore blinked hard. The thunderous footsteps of hundreds of students headed deeper into the school echoed. Dumbledore saw Master Jiang still looking at the square and followed his gaze to see SuYang picking up her cloak that was abandoned near the entrance and looked up. With a nod, she swung her cape onto her shoulders and turned on the spot. As silent as her footsteps, her disapparation was just as quiet. 

Master Jiang looked at Dumbledore with a meaningful expression. Dumbledore let out a strangled breath as he pocketed his wand up his sleeve.

“It seems, Mr. Dumbledore, you have something on your mind that is clouding your judgment.” Master Jiang said, stroking his chin and giving him an odd look.

“Yes, I believe so, as you have observed since the moment I met you.” He said with a smile, remembering the feeling of the conclusion that he came to with the old master’s words of wisdom. 

“Perhaps, but it might be something else.” Master Jiang continued to look, as though trying not to use the Sight, but to read between his guest’s expressive eyes. “Because it has escaped your notice that it was not all the uh, Dementors, that were attacking the school today.” 

Dumbledore’s face fell slightly, an indication that Master Jiang was right. He stroked his chin thoughtfully and raised an eyebrow.

“Why else, would SuYang waste her energy to fend them off with a whip instead of summoning the guardian immediately?” Master Jiang smiled, as the realization hit Dumbledore.


	8. Moon in Water

The corridor outside the dining hall was filled with murmurs and hums, as the students sat in quiet whispers, sipping bowls of sweet syrup and chewing on _Tangyuan_. The chatter from lunch earlier was replaced by a subdued buzz that rang in the high ceiling hall. Dumbledore recognized the brave girl who went out to save her junior, both sitting next to their peers who were listening to them described how the experience with Dementors was like. The little boy appeared to be in better colors now as he sipped his bowl of sweets quietly. The girl, on the other hand, was much more positive, eager to tell her peers as she gestured to her head and stick, possibly retelling what SuYang had directed her to do. 

Dumbledore followed the master past the admin building behind, by the pagoda that rang the danger alert earlier. He looked up to see the giant bell, standing very still, the handle stationary beside it. Master Jiang strolled along, leading Dumbledore back to where they first met, humming a tune as he walked with a light step. They reached the main steps leading up to the door of the palace, and Dumbledore naturally looked up now that he was so close to the monument.

The glowing palace was so high, it felt like he was looking up at the Hogwarts castle from the front gate. The walls and windows were emanating a very soft but bright glow from the top-most floor. Upon a closer look, each floor appeared to be very high, and Dumbledore felt akin to it as he was to Hogwarts. He stood there after slowing his steps to a pause as a wave of awe engulfed him, and for a moment he felt very small once again, being reminded of how much he did not know about the world outside his own. At that moment Dumbledore wondered after years of having chosen a profession in teaching, did he perhaps forget his dream of traveling the world and learning beyond what books and his own deduction can teach? Sure, it was a dream that was disrupted in the end, but there was a part of him that wondered if he had become a teacher for an entirely different reason, or rather to avoid having a reason to.

Dumbledore watched the Master gave the big front doors that are opened wide, lined with carvings of golden dragons and clouds a deep bow and salute before facing to him to usher him in. Dumbledore, not wanting to be disrespectful, gave the door a bow too, and stepped over the threshold into a different realm, it would seem. 

Once inside, he seemed to have left the comforting sunshine behind, and a slight change in temperature could be felt. The interior of the palace was luminous, as though the air in it comprised little particles that refract light, and it felt he was standing amongst the clouds. There was a gentle mist in the air that obscured part of his vision, and as he walked along, he seemed to be kicking up whispers of clouds that covered the entirety of the floor. 

The main hall was lined with a direct long carpet of red with gold silk, beside them were rows of tall columns reaching far into the other end of the hall, supporting the high ceiling with carvings of various animals in different settings. As Dumbledore followed the Master, he could see the animals in the carvings moving along the pillars, just like the moving portraits of Hogwarts. The grandmaster headed for a door on the right, and Dumbledore followed, doing a double-take on a huge golden throne right at the end of the carpet. He wondered who would sit there, if not the grandmaster, then who else? A throne would signify someone of immense importance, an emperor in the ancient times would make sense. But in this day and age, perhaps not.

The corridor next to the main hall led them to another chamber and a flight of stairs. They began to climb for a long time, passing one landing and reached the second floor, but the master did not stop. They must have ascended for quite some time in silence and reached the last landing where there were no more stairs. Dumbledore could see from his position as he looked out to the view, the entire admin building top, the school and the expansive square, and the entire circumference of the mountain peak. Turning, he saw the master headed back to the direction of the main hall from the ground floor, and quickly jogged to follow. As he neared, he could see the glow from inside grew so bright that the surrounding air actually glittered. He could not contain himself anymore.

“Master Jiang.” Dumbledore began, yet not sure what to continue asking.

“Hoho, Mr. Dumbledore, you are in the Azure Dragon Palace, atop the Azure Dragon Peak, there is someone here I would like you to meet first.” Master Jiang said with a chuckle. Dumbledore’s eyes widened slightly, betraying his capacity to still be surprised. Master Jiang gave him a serene smile and pushed open the heavy doors that were carved with more dragons on each side of the panels.

All Dumbledore could see was just light, an entire space of light and glow and shimmer that was the interior of this room at the topmost floor of the palace. His eyes began to hurt, so much so that he raised his hand to shield his face, and closed his eyes to rest for a brief moment. He could hear the master beside him chuckle hard and felt him swept past into the light ahead of him.

“Lao Zhang.” Dumbledore heard him say, followed by a very low rumbling and some vibration in the air. He felt his hair began to stand on end, as though there was something else here, in the midst of the light. Through the gaps in his fingers, he opened his eyes slightly and saw some movements in the shine. He blinked hard again to adjust his eyes, and sure enough, he could see some sparkles that were moving in the air, all at once in multiple directions. He could make out Master Jiang was standing a little way from him, his back formed the only darker shade in this room. There were two points of glowing dark spots near him, and the sparkles around continued to move amongst the space of light.

It took him a good few seconds to realize those dark glowing spots, were eyes, for it disappeared for a brief second and appeared again, as though something was blinking. Dumbledore then heard two sharp rushes of air.

 _“Someone from the far west.”_ a very old and slow voice reverberated in the walls. _“Hmmm… interesting…”_

As his eyes adjusted to the brightness, he could see outlines in the light, and they moved, as though something is moving throughout the light. Dumbledore blinked hard a few more times to use his tears to calm the strain in his eyes. The glow did not seem so glaring anymore, and in that split second that he could finally see something, Dumbledore felt his heart stop.

The two eyes belonged to a white dragon head, bigger than Master Jiang’s entire figure, the movement of the outline of the light was the entirety of the glowing dragon’s body that filled the chamber. The only color he could see other than the eyes and glow was the greenish-blue mane around the head. Its large and long body, covered with pearl white luminous scale must have been the length of several basilisks put from end to end. As it raised its head, even slightly, Dumbledore felt his world shrink around him, and unnatural awe with fear engulfed him. The dragon’s mouth opened slightly and came a little forward directly at Dumbledore, who took half a step back instinctively.

 _“A young fellow, very powerful for his age, a little confused at the moment over his mistakes in the past, unable to move on. But, an honorable with potential.”_ The dragon nodded its massive head as its body rose. Dumbledore stood rooted to the ground as his eyes followed that of the dragon upwards, unsure how to react. His hair stood on ends and he felt a chill run down his spine as he took in the visual image that was right in front of him. He had seen dragons before in his life, just like Newt. But one of this kind and of this particular size, he would dare to bet that nobody would ever believe him if he ever recounts this.

“Mr. Dumbledore, this, is my master, the Azure Dragon himself.” Master Jiang walked over and patted him on his back for some reassurance. Dumbledore blinked finally and gave an awkward bow. It seemed the most appropriate gesture at the moment. The Dragon nodded its head and hummed an approval before lowering it slightly, coming level to him. As it moved, the surrounding air seemed to move, Dumbledore felt his body being pushed forward and backward each time the change of air current followed. Its body began to move further back as its powerful legs with gigantic claws pounded the floor beneath them, and its serpentine body shifted aside to show an elegant pond lined with carved bricks in the middle of the chamber. Master Jiang then pushed him forward, and Dumbledore took an apprehensive step involuntarily.

He could feel the dragon’s eyes followed his every move, and the two men began walking towards the pond. Dumbledore saw the water in it was sparkling clear, right to the bottom of the pool of pure white stone, with a few white lotus flowers dotting amongst the lotus leaves that floated on the surface to the side of the pond. As Dumbledore neared, he could see his own reflection, and at this moment, he realized how much he had aged. The whiteness in his beard and hair, the deep lines that are appearing in on his face, but more prominently, his eyes. His eyes were severely tired from the internal struggle he had suppressed within himself.

The calm pond then began to ripple, starting from his reflection and the water began to push outward. He saw his face in the water began to age backward, the whiteness and years of age melted away and there it was, the younger version of himself, at Hogwarts, receiving a multitude of awards and praises surrounded by an applauding crowd. He suddenly felt undeserving of them, a sense of dread loomed as his next thought was reflected upon the water.

Grindelwald. That mismatched eyes, the piercing strong gaze, and that aura of ambition. He could feel the blood pact in his breast pocket grow hotter, as then he saw again, in the water the ritual they shared to create it. His heart wrenched so hard that it hurt, physically. His lungs constrict, starving him of air as Dumbledore knew what was coming. His dread increased, and his aching heart began to beat violently.

In his ears, he heard the screams of his sister, his brother’s painful cries, and an angry voice he never thought he wanted to hear, from Grindelwald. Dumbledore shut his eyes, hoping for it to stop as he began to tremble, but the images in the water flashed and began playing inside his own head from memory. That faithful day that changed everything, that possibly set in motion the chain of events that happened up till this point. He could see once again through his own eyes that very day, as though he was right there again.

“No! No, hurt me instead! Don’t hurt them!” he began to shout, and the images stopped right at the last moment his sister laid motionless. “NO!”

Dumbledore gave a gasp as he fell backward and his eyes flew open to regain his balance. He clutched his heart, clenching his clothes in his fist and blinked furiously, drawing sharp and shallow breaths. Behind him, the air moved again and startled him. He turned his head which was wet with beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he swallowed hard. A glowing warmth neared him as the dragon pushed his head towards the pond. He saw the eyes of the dragon ponder deep into the water, before it turned towards him, making him jump a little at the sudden attention.

 _“Let him stay here for a while, perhaps he needs the peace.”_ the dragon opened its massive mouth and said and beside him, Master Jiang gave a bow. _“Young one.”_

The dragon then turned its head to Dumbledore, facing him directly. At such proximity, the dragon’s presence was greatly intimidating, and the rows of fangs from its open mouth did not help. Dumbledore let go of his shirt and gasped slower for air when he wiped his forehead. 

“My master would like to speak to you.” Master Jiang said, ushering him forward. He patted his forehead and dipped his head, urging Dumbledore to follow. Dumbledore frowned in confusion and turned back to the intimidating dragon. Taking a deep breath and swallowing hard, he braced himself to close his eyes and bowed his head. His mind began to race, his hands began to sweat. Then he felt something come up to meet his head, a warm and hard snout, that breathed heavily, causing the air on both sides of him to tear at his sleeves.

Dumbledore felt his body grow warm, as though the despair he felt earlier from reliving his past disintegrated in the presence of something incredibly positive and uplifting. Like a Patronus Charm on a Dementor. His ears rang as the surrounding air whooshed hurriedly from the breaths of the beast.

“Young one.” Dumbledore heard a deep rumbling voice that did not come through his ears, but from a glowing warmth in his head speaking directly into his mind. More shockingly, in a language he understood. “A man’s mistakes are not shackles to chain him to the past. Just like the moon in the water, flowers in the mirror, you must disillusion your mind to know what to live for, instead of what you would die for.”

Dumbledore’s mind was wiped clean as soon as those words were spoken, he was shaken down to the very core that he trembled, something he never thought he would feel. He felt small, so far away, so lost and helpless. Yet despite all, in that moment of blankness, there was clarity, there was room, space for him to work with. He could see in his mind’s eye, a very long, empty road ahead, a road that used to be a void with darkness spilling from behind him that he tried hard not to look at. At this moment, he felt not the need to turn back, not even for acknowledgment or nostalgia. Once he saw that image in his mind, his trembling stopped.

The warmth in his head dissipated, and the air moved around him again. A comforting human hand rested on his shoulders and gave it a squeeze. Dumbledore began to open his eyes and found that to be with difficulty. It was then he realized tears had been running from his eyes since the moment the dragon spoke and had dried around his eyes and cheeks. He felt he needed air, big and deep lungfuls of air, that seemed to be of little quantity in this chamber.

 _“Now go, I am going to sleep.”_ The deep voice sounded again as Master Jiang gave a bow. He then turned Dumbledore away from the pond and moved towards the open door. The glowing dragon moved its body again, and Dumbledore saw his silhouette blurred back into bright light, and the pond he was looking at before had faded into non-existence.

“Come, Mr. Dumbledore. Let us find a room for you. I hope you enjoy a good mountain view in the mornings.” Master Jiang said cheerfully as he led him out of the chamber. The heavy doors closed behind them with a very resounding bump. The last thing Dumbledore saw in the room, was the mane of greenish-blue, tucked itself into the entirety of light, and a soft rumble in the air that vibrated every fiber of his being.


	9. Firewood

MACUSA Headquarters, New York

Tina’s boots echoed down the stairs to the main lobby, skipping two steps each time. She pulled on her old long leather jacket and flipped the collar up to protect herself from the cold outside that was waiting to greet her as soon as she stepped out of those front doors. Around her, everyone hurried out of her way, avoiding her immediate path. Nobody spoke to her, not even to give her any additional updates. Her face made it very clear to anyone who is present; Don’t talk to me now.

The President had just received her report from Europe and granted her a few days of rest upon her return from London. The department of Aurors commands a very different air in MACUSA now, and everyone seemed to avoid her eyes as much as they can. It might have been ten years, but anyone who knows Tina Goldstein well knew not to cross her, she was never quite the same ever since Paris. It was obvious to everyone why, but when she recovered the body of the real Percival Graves, it was clear that a major change was to happen to MACUSA. The Department of Magical Security was then merged with the Department of Major Investigation to be led by Madam Picquery, a move so unexpected by everyone across the country, and Tina was henceforth known as Commissioner Goldstein since late 1928.

The only thing that was keeping Tina together as she rose in the office in her desperate search for Queenie over the years, was the constant communication she had with Newt via owl post. As much as the world turned hard on her, Newt was the only constant in her life she could count on. But having promised herself to bring her sister back, something she was relieved that Newt never disputed, their unspoken and undefined relationship was held together with a mutual hope that seemed to only strengthen each time they meet, however rare they might be. The approaching winter wind pushed hard at Tina as she exited the building, the few wisps of hair that escaped her bun tickled her cheek as she walked across the street towards home. 

Tina, just like Jacob in a way, did not move away, because somehow deep down, she never lost hope and that Queenie would have a home to come back to, should one day she returns. The usual greeting from Mrs. Esposito if she was alone, the usual opening of the same door was almost clockwork to Tina. There are days that she felt as though perhaps Queenie did come home, for some furniture in the house had been moved, a hint of her perfume or the smell of food, but Tina waved it off as hallucination from fatigue given that she spends most of her time hunting dark wizards and tracking her down.

Today was not any different, as she opened the door to her empty apartment. She gave a sigh as she felt her heart ache at the longing, much less anger now, for her sister. There was a faint sound coming from the guestroom and she couldn’t help but gave a smile, something she has not done since the morning. Locking the front door and hanging her coat, she crossed over to the guestroom and opened the door.

“Salena. I’m home.” She called out in a singing voice as she stepped through the doorway and pulled apart the drapes hanging at the door. Inside, she crouched down on rocky terrain under a desert sky and threw a log with some leaves onto the small ember that was burning in the sand. “Salena, where are you?”

She called out again, and she craned her neck to look, and from one of the gaps of the rocks in front of her, a blue flaming head poked out curiously and scrambled down the rocks towards her.

“Hey Salena, how was your day?” Tina reached out as the salamander scampered towards her, the pitter-patter of its feet scraping hard on the rocks. Tina lifted her in her hands and the flames calmed gently. The black eyes sparkled as its tongue flicked, as though welcoming her home. Tina smiled very brightly as she stroked the head of the lizard as it gave a satisfying cry, before putting her down on the rocks. Tina turned to the side where a rack of logs are and she took one, feeding it to the ember and then shoveling some dried leaves onto the growing fire.

In contrast to the chaos outside, it was moments like this that Tina felt human again. Her work as an Auror, let alone the Commissioner was more often gory than glory. Grindelwald’s campaign, while subtle in America, was still influential enough that caused many of his followers to lash out on opposers. Day in and day out, Tina dealt with violence, rage, misplaced power, and misguided ideologies. But in this magically constructed sanctuary, she could find a moment of peace with the one creature she felt the most affectionate towards.

There was a tap on her window distracted her and she looked outside the room. Salena looked as well, having rarely left her magically constructed fire-proof dwelling, her curious eyes looked through the gap of the drapes as Tina stood back up and headed outside. Finding nothing of interest, Salena turned its head away to climb onto the flaming log and her blue flame intensified.

Tina saw an owl outside her window and opened it, there was a letter attached to its leg. Her heart leaped as instinctively she thought it was from Newt, but the seal behind told her otherwise. Slightly disappointed, she reached to take it and opened the letter from Theseus. Scanning the parchment, she saw no mention of Newt and gave a disappointing sigh before sitting down to read the letter properly from the British Ministry of Magic Auror Office.

Waving her wand, the pots and pans began to dance and knives chopped up what would make a very simple stew. The letter was nothing urgent, but it did tell her what she needed to know for updates in Europe in general. It was nothing to be happy about, Tina thought, because as much as her day to day dealt with fanatic followers, the situation in Europe was much, much worse. With a heavy heart that reached out to the people across the ocean, her tough exterior melted away as she gave a sigh and put down her wand when she reached the end of the letter. There was a postscript, and she felt her heart leaped.

_“He misses you. Take care.”_

In rare and solitude moments like this, Tina let herself smile and chuckle. The two leaders of Auror Offices, as far as anyone knows, have not smiled nor laughed for ten years since Paris. While their first meeting was not incredibly peaceful, they somehow found themselves able to understand each other's plight easily, and Tina suspected that Newt had something to do with it. As her stew boiled, she grabbed some paper and a pen to prepare a reply back to Theseus. She had just returned from London barely a couple of weeks ago, and already she misses that place so much. Mostly Newt, but she couldn’t help but feel that there was something there that was calling out to her dearly. Sending the owl away with another letter tied to its feet and a nice cracker, Tina sat back down with a bowl of stew and ate alone, occasionally her eye gleaned the three words in the postscript of the letter on the table which helped elevate the loneliness a little.

Little did she know, just outside her window, Queenie watched her sister silently and discretely. Her eyes blurred with a thin veil of tears as her heart ached, longing to reach out to hug her sister that was the only kin she had left. Each time that happened, her resolve will immediately return to remind her why she walked through the fire eleven years ago. Shedding one tear, Queenie tore herself away from the window painfully, just in time before her sister turned her head inside to look out at the evening sky.

***

Newt picked up his case and climbed the stairs out of his basement. Nagini was still sleeping, and he thought best not to wake her. Jacob was already up and eating breakfast at the table when the basement door opened.

“Morning, Newt, made coffee,” he said as he poured him a cup. “Where are you heading today?”

“I uh, thought to go back to visit my old school. Dumbledore asked if I have time to drop by.” Newt sat down and took a sip of the coffee, and one of the bread that is only unique to Jacob’s bakery. It was odd, having breakfast with a roommate because he never really had a roommate. And while it was nearly every time for the last ten years that Jacob made coffee and breakfast, he never once told Newt otherwise. Having someone like Jacob around made his life slightly brighter, knowing that in the wide world out there, it was not just magical creatures that he could befriend. 

“That’s quite nice.” Jacob nodded and bit into his own bread. “Can’t go back to my own school even if I wanted to. It was gone back in the war. Last I heard, they rebuild the area to make houses for the uptown people. Couldn’t afford to live there either way.”

Newt gave a small nod in sympathy and remained silent. It wasn’t a very happy memory for him about the school, but at least everything else was, other than that one incident. Jacob picked up the paper and scanned it while Newt finished his bread and coffee. He then accepted a small bag of additional pastries for the road and they both left the house. Newt onward to Hogwarts, Jacob to the bakery. Newt watched as Jacob strolled away, noticing his heavy steps. Unlike him, Jacob had been walking that way for so many years, a pain that Newt might not know thoroughly. Despite what happened, Newt never quite resented Queenie for what she did, though he had to sit through countless of raging and saddening periods with Tina and Jacob. His creatures seemed to know how to comfort them better, for Jacob took to helping in his basement whenever he needed to occupy his thoughts, and Tina, whenever she visited, would find a spot in his basement where the sand was.

Newt found himself moments later at the exit of Hogsmede and slowly made his way towards the school entrance. He was fully aware that it is a school day, and there should not be any students around. Nearing the entrance, as he walked the long viaduct, he happened to look back for some reason, a cautious habit of his having spent most of his time in the wild. There was nothing, but somehow he knew, there was something out there watching him. At the entrance, as though someone knew he was coming, a lady in a maroon dress and a cloak stood to wait.

“You must be Newt Scamander.” the lady said, and he stopped.

“I am, and you are?” he asked, looking up and then quickly away from those piercing eyes.

“I am Minerva McGonagall. Substitute teacher for transfiguration.” She said. “Albus told me you might be dropping by.”

“Y-Yes he told me to…” he said slowly, looking up slightly weary. There was a memory in his mind that he had seen her before, but in that instant of trying to avoid her strong stare, he couldn’t quite put a finger to. An instinctive feeling compelled him to turn around, but again nothing was there. “Perhaps, it might be better to speak inside.”

“Come with me.” McGonagall was now slightly alarmed and ushered him inside, leading the way into the castle. Newt smelled the familiar air and looked around, some happy memory came flashing into his mind, his Hufflepuff scarf billowing in the air proudly as he hurried back into the warmth of the castle. All around him, lessons were in session and he followed McGonagall upstairs to her office. He passed the room where he remembered a boggart training session and quickly looked away, wondering on this day, if he were to encounter a boggart, what form would it take now. McGonagall opened the door to her office, and he hurried inside.

“Is-is there something wrong?” Newt asked awkwardly, but it seemed like the more appropriate option than to ask than to explain what he was doing here. Sensing his heightened awareness and at the mention of Dumbledore, McGonagall got straight to the point.

“I think the ministry is onto the fact that Dumbledore has left the country and they are demanding why and where! Look!” She grabbed a handful of letters that were covering a good portion of her desk and gave it to him. Newt took some awkwardly and the tone of the letters did not seem very nice. “Do you have any, anything at all, for me to tell the ministry because I assure you, they are one letter away from storming in like the last time to demand for Dumbledore again.”

Newt’s head twitched at a word he heard and looked up at the teacher, and McGonagall closed her mouth quickly.

“The last time?” He repeated rhetorically, the vague memory of seeing her became clearer. “I’ve seen you before here at Hogwarts. But…”

McGonagall did not answer as she held in her breath, watching Newt scrambled to connect the dots.

“You’re not-, not from this time, are you?” He asked slowly, putting down the letters. “I have seen you eleven years ago but I’ve always thought you are a teacher here. But you say you are a substitute teacher now…”

“I am here because Albus asked me to. He said he will be traveling for a while and would like me to take care of the school.” She said simply, regaining her composure, yet Newt was far too shrewd to let it go.

“But the ministry puts control over time turners, and you can’t possibly travel more than five hours at a time,” Newt said simply, his gaze not leaving the professor. McGonagall tensed and debated internally as they stood at an impasse, each having some information that serves no connection in any way, but perhaps put together, they might form a bigger picture of why are they both called upon.

“Other than the ministry asking, is there something happening at the school?” Newt asked cautiously, sensing the tension has gone too far and perhaps it was time to change the subject. McGonagall sighed slightly in relief.

“Mr. Scamander, you are right, I have come through the time turner. Dumbledore convinced the ministry to allow him to create a “true” time turner, and that requires the lifting of the Hour-Reversal Charm on the time turner. I have been traveling as an experiment over different periods of time as a teacher to avoid questions. The first success was indeed eleven years ago where I was brought here for an extended period of time. I believe you and I have crossed paths during your school days if you remember.” McGonagall said, sighing. Newt listening, his face was expressionless but utterly amazed. Yes, now that he recalled, he had not just seen her that once, it was far in the memories that he had kept locked away, his school memories. “This time, Dumbledore asked me for help again and then disappeared, saying he has something to do and a place to find. Do you know where and if he is coming back soon?”

Newt stuttered awkwardly and struggled to find the right words. Instead, he put down his case and straightened to face the flustering professor. He took a few apprehensive steps, and then back again.

“Professor McGonagall, Dumbledore has traveled East.” He said, looking away quickly.

“East?! To Europe?” McGonagall almost shouted that first word as she inhaled sharply to stop herself and hissed. “Is he- Is he going after Grindelwald?!”

“N-No, he’s not. I-,” Newt struggled again, because knowing full well, that was the ultimate intention of traveling east, but not as immediate causation. McGonagall stared hard at him, demanding a proper answer, her hands held together in front of her tightly as though she might tear her dress at any moment. Newt, cautiously again turned around to look over his shoulder to see the door he came through and took a step towards McGonagall. “I don’t really know, but I think is looking for some answers in places we have never explored documented in-depth, to find people who may know things we don’t know.”

“Wh-Where?!” McGonagall lost her composure and hissed in a sharp whisper to stop herself from shouting. She pressed a hand to her forehead as though to keep herself from fainting. “Whatever for?!”

“He has something to do, or-or rather some answers he’s seeking about-” Newt stopped immediately, sensing something he shouldn’t go into detail, just in time as the door burst opened so hard that it rebounded, and a familiar man in a hat and trench coat, stalked in.

“Dumbledore is not at Hogwarts!” Travers demanded as he stepped inside.

“This is outrageous! You cannot barge in here like the last time!” McGonagall shrieked unprofessionally at the ministry personnel.

“Where is he?” Travers ignored her and said through gritted teeth. Behind him, Theseus appeared in the doorway, stopping in a skid as he held onto the door frame for support and barged in, much to McGonagall’s outrage again.

“We don’t know,” Newt said simply, as he backed towards McGonagall’s side.

“You just said East.” Travers took a demanding step forward, and from his sleeve, he produced his wand. McGonagall whipped out hers just as fast and Newt was slightly a heartbeat later. “Miss. McGonagall, you are to return to your own time if you do not comply. I believe we have given Dumbledore plenty of ridiculous exceptions in exchange for his assurance that he would be more involved in stopping Grindelwald. And now he is missing.”

Theseus dashed forward as McGonagall was about to lose it, he put himself between the three wands. He pressed his palm against Newt’s wand and turned back.

“Travers, let me speak to them,” Theseus said, his eyes staring straight at Travers.

“Theseus, step aside.”

“You’re not going to get anything out from them like this, and certainly not by making a scene at Hogwarts.” Theseus raised his voice, and at that instant, there was an immediate softening of chatter outside. Travers turned slightly to see students piling outside, in the midst of going to their next classes. The students, of all ages, stared silently at him, some murmuring to each other. Sensing he was the most at a disadvantage, he quickly pocketed his wand.

“You have five minutes,” Travers said and turned to walk outside forcefully that repelled the students away, slamming the door hard. “Don’t you have classes to go to?!”

Theseus turned around to face them with a serious face. McGonagall and Newt both lowered their wands.

“Theseus please-” Newt started but Theseus raised his hand to stop them.

“Do you know, exactly, where he is?” He asked in a very barely audible voice. McGonagall raised her brows.

“No, we don’t,” Newt said simply, looking up at his brother’s eyes, and slightly lower.

“And, is something happening to the school?” Theseus asked the teacher, who sighed hurriedly in relief.

“I have been bewitching all the statues and armors at school discretely so that they can keep a lookout for me. They are telling me strange people have been spotted loitering around at odd hours as though spying in preparation for something, it is driving me insane!”

Theseus drew a deep breath and put his hands on their shoulders, slowly he began to nod.

“Theseus you believe in Dumbledore don’t you?” Newt asked awkwardly as he tried to read his brother, a task that he found to be incredibly difficult yet ironic.

“I do now.” His brother answered simply. The door behind him burst opened and Travers stalked in.

“Well?” he demanded. Theseus slowly let go of the two and turned to Travers.

“We need to increase security around Hogwarts to ensure the safety of the school, suspicious characters have been spotted. Students’ safety is a priority, Travers.” Theseus turned to him. “As for Dumbledore, it is true that he is not at the school, but there is no reason not to trust him and to find him. He can take care of himself. It’s the students we need to protect.”

“That is the job of Albus Dumbledore who, just so happen in a series of events and conveniently missing from the school since the start of term, just when two lunatics of Grindelwald were found to be hiding outside Hogsmeade,” Travers demanded and McGonagall’s face went white. “Coincidence? I think not.” 

“That has not been proven to be connected with Dumbledore in any way.” The head Auror asked, stepping forward. “If he is working on his own against Grindelwald who are you to stop him?”

“If he is not with us, then he can be working against us. You know his relationship with Grindelwald.” Travers stared back. “And now he has been absent without any proof of contact or accountability, I am hereby placing him as a wanted person. All Aurors to be notified at once and Dumbledore is to be arrested on sight.”

Travers stalked outside with a hint of a demented smile, leaving the students in bewilderment in his path. Theseus fumed as he wiped his face with his palm and turned to the other two. Newt, stood silently behind, tilted his head as something did not seem right. He looked up to catch his brother’s gaze.

“If you have a way to contact him, use it. Tell him to stay away until this dies down. I’ll do what I can. Miss. McGonagall, should you need any assistance, send word immediately. Newt.” Theseus said quickly as he took one step forward and paused, looking at his brother. “Don’t do anything rash.”

Theseus then hurried out of the room, in the same direction as Travers had gone. McGonagall covered her mouth in shock as she sank into a nearby chair. Newt looked around, feeling very out of his skin. He caught sight of his own case he left on the floor, and a few conversations he had with Dumbledore came back into memory. His brother’s advice, though counterintuitive, gave him an idea. 

But first, he needed to contact Tina, preferably without the use of owl post.


	10. Phone

Theseus chased after Travers down the viaduct, but it was too late. Travers had already disapparated. Theseus slapped his forehead and wiped his face as he frustratedly turned, contemplating his next move. He might have to notify the entire Auror department about this, but doing so would set in motion a series of very bad consequences. Yet, like Newt, he sensed there was something very odd about this. He stood in the cold and thought about it for just one second, towards the most logical conclusion. As impossible as it sounded in his head, given the circumstances, it might very well be a point of caution for his navigation around the ministry henceforth. Behind him, down the viaduct, he heard hurried footsteps, awkward steps with very erratic rhythm. 

“Newt.” Theseus frowned as his brother caught up with him, clutching his case in one hand.

“Theseus.” Newt caught his breath, his eyes went back to the other end of the viaduct where McGonagall was standing. “I-I have to find Dumbledore.”

“You just said you don’t know where he is.” Theseus hissed, quickly turning around to make sure they are alone.

“I really don’t.” Newt shook his head slightly. “But there is no way of contacting him now, and,”

Theseus stared intently, urging his brother.

“I must be out of my mind to say this but, I don’t have a good feeling about this.” He said finally, looking at him directly in the eye. Such was rare, that in their entire lives, there were moments where their brotherhood connected them on such a level that it seemed almost unbelievable that they came to the same conclusion, without even a single spoken word. 

“What are you thinking?” Theseus asked, calmly.

“I need to go to the ministry, there’s a delegate from the East that might be able to help.” He said quietly. Theseus knew instantly who he was talking about and grabbed Newt’s hand without a second thought and disapparated.

***

Jacob went about his day at the bakery, putting out the pastries and kneading the dough at the side. The morning rush had come and gone, and the afternoon was quiet with a few souls traipsing in for whatever that was left. Soon he was left to his own to make fresh batches of the demiguises and the icing for tomorrow. Around mid-day, he had spied a few people in coats outside his bakery, pacing and looking inside a few times. Thinking nothing of it, he decided to lock the door for a bit, so he could go to the back for the oven preparation.

“Psst.” he heard, a strange sound to be hearing from his own bakery. He put the tray of dough rolls down and walked towards the storage cautiously. “Jacob.”

“Newt?” Jacob recognized the voice and hurried over to see Newt’s blue coat, huddled behind sacks of flours. “What are you doing there?”

“There are ministry people outside aren’t there?” He asked quickly pressing a finger to his lips to signal to Jacob to be quiet.

“The people in coats pacing? Yeah.” Jacob quickly glanced at the doorway to the main store and saw someone in a bowler hat looking in. Ducking back, he turned to Newt. “What happened? Oh no, did you break into the ministry again?”

“The situation is a little less complicated than that,” Newt said, standing up but avoiding the overhead windows. “Theseus is trying to convince the ministry and the east delegate about something but that’s not why I’m here.”

There was rapping at the front door.

“Be right with you!” Jacob shouted as he peeked his head out. It was a woman with a bag and her kids. He gave her a smile and wave before ducking back into Newt. 

“Jacob, you said something about a muggle device that you can talk to someone with it,” Newt said hurriedly.

“You mean a phone?” he asked with a frown. “Who are you going to call?”

***

Mrs. Esposito sat in her lounge chair nursing a glass of whiskey. For a woman her age, every time is always drinking time. A haunting woman’s voice rang in the room as a gramophone played in the corner, with her cat meowing in the sunlight by the window sill. It was a good day to be a landlady. No-fuss, no complaints, just sitting back and preparing to collect rent in a couple of days.

That was until the phone rang. Cursing, she got up from her lounge, spilling a few drops of her whiskey and stumbled across the room to the phone and snatched the receiver.

“Hello! Who is this!” she demanded, it was a male voice that she doesn’t recognize. After a brief introduction, and finding out who he is looking for, she slammed the phone back down and stormed outside. She climbed the stairs with angry steps, thundering her way up with her cat in tow. She banged on Tina’s door repeatedly and shouted. “Goldstein! Open the door I know you’re in there!”

Tina jumped from the couch, having fallen asleep there the night before, still in yesterday’s clothes. She sat up and tugged at her shirt to smoothen it as she brushed her hair out of her face before heading to the source of the banging. She reached the door and pulled it open to see Mrs. Esposito’s angry face staring her down.

“HOW DARE YOU!” she roared and pushed past her. “You have been bringing men into your apartment haven’t you?”

“What? No, I have never!” Tina retorted as the landlady began flipping her things to look for any evidence, slightly getting angry now that she had found herself aching in places from the awkward position she was sleeping in. That was definitely not true, after all, she did harbor Newt and Jacob that one time, and a few more when Newt visited America over the years in her guestroom. 

“Don’t lie to me, you loose woman. You even gave them MY phone number!” she turned and demanded. “So I don’t give you a phone line to your apartment you see it fit to give other men mine?”

“What phone number I don’t even know what your number is!” Tina defended, her tone slightly deflated. To be honest, she has never really used a phone, anyway.

“Oh really? Then why am I getting calls from a New Scavenger?” the landlady went to the guestroom and pushed open the door. Tina flinched and flicked her wand behind her back as the landlady pushed aside the drapes on the doorway to an empty guestroom.

“New… Newt?” Tina repeated and gasped. “When did he call?”

“Just now! You are a horrid woman of no morals-” the landlady pushed open her bedroom door only to turn back and see Tina running out of the apartment. “Where are you going!”

Tina jumped down the stairs and saw the open door of her landlady’s apartment and rushed in. The cat hissed at her but she ignored it. She recognized the device that is the phone and picked up the receiver to hold to her ear. Nothing. No sound came.

“Please call again, Newt…” she whispered as she put the receiver down, and picked it up again. She searched her mind for a spell but she couldn’t think of one and started pushing at the numbers randomly, not realizing it was a turn dial phone. 

“How dare you!” Mrs. Esposito stormed back into her own apartment with fury and screamed at the intruder.

“Petrificus Totalus!” She turned back impatiently and stunned the landlady before turning back to the phone. As if reading her mind from miles and miles away, the phone rang. She grabbed the receiver and shouted. “Newt!”

“Tina!” Newt exclaimed, and Jacob clenched his fists in victory. “Thank Merlin’s beard, finally. We’ve been trying for a long while now and was going to move onto another number.”

“Newt is that really you? Why are you calling me on a no-maj phone, is something wrong?” She could not stop smiling at the sound of his voice and her eyes began to water, but the logical part of her mind was working faster, at least because there was a bound no-maj lying on the open doorway of a no-maj residence in the middle of the day.

“Tina, I haven’t got much time and I’m afraid my owl posts might be watched now. Dumbledore has been put on a wanted list by the ministry because he is not in Britain. They think he might have joined Grindelwald.”

“That is outrageous! I-I’m sure Dumbledore isn’t that kind of person? At least that’s what you’ve told me, that he is against Grindelwald’s campaign.” Tina exclaimed.

“He isn’t, but Dumbledore and Travers have never really been on excellent terms, and Theseus is concerned that it will send the wrong message to Grindelwald and his spies, which might then alert them that Dumbledore really isn’t here.”

“That… that would mean they might change their plans to attack Britain.” Tina gasped.

“That is why I need to find Dumbledore and convince him to come back,” Newt said into the phone, looking at Jacob’s bewildered eyes. “Before Grindelwald does.”

“I’ll come with you,” Tina said firmly as her hands gripped the receiver hard.

“No!” Newt said immediately, which sounded a little too hard, and Tina frowned. “I mean, Tina, you need to stay in America. Just in case. They’ve attacked New York once, they might again. If they find out that their biggest resistance is missing it might change a lot of plans, whatever they may be.”

“But where will you go? Do you know where he is?” Tina cried, trying her best not to sound too desperate. Behind her, Mrs. Esposito cursed with frozen lips, with her cat licking her face.

“I have some idea and a lead.” He said quietly. “And I have a guide to the East.”

“That would take you directly into the greater Europe region, right into Grindelwald’s territories!” Tina protested.

“I know…” he said with mellow tones. Tina could hear his voice, something that despite what she is hearing, is giving her faith. “But if we lose Dumbledore, we would be losing the war.”

Nobody spoke for a moment, Tina gripped her phone tightly as her eyes welled. Newt breathed silently as he watched the timer on the oven beside him, and Jacob’s melancholic face. 

“Be careful Newt…” she said quietly.

“I will. Please do not tell anyone that Dumbledore is gone. And,” Newt said, smiling a little before wiping it off quickly. “Ta-take good care of Salena.”

“I will.” Tina smiled widely as she turned around to the direction of the guestroom, only to realize she was in the wrong apartment. “Will I be able to hear from you?”

“If you could get a fon, that might be helpful.” Jacob whispered ‘phone’. “I mean, a muggle phone.”

“I can do that.” Tina smiled. “Take care Newt, be safe.”

“Tina.” was the last word she heard, before the line cut. Tina lowered the receiver and hugged it to her chest. Her eyes had welled so hard that a drop of tear fell from the corner of her left eye. She knew he was right, she needed to stay here in America now that things have been set in motion that was not entirely in their favor. Also, though she did not know Dumbledore well enough, what was he thinking? Leaving Britain like that. The few times she saw him when she visited, her conclusion was that he was a rational man of deep thoughts and plans. This was quite uncharacteristic of what she knew.

She put the receiver back to the phone and sank into the nearest chair. Tina looked out the window for a moment, watching the top of people’s heads move around the streets, but she could not think of a single thing she could do to change this situation around, except to have complete faith in Newt and pray hard to Merlin that he would be safe.

The sound of mumbled curses broke her thoughts. Well, at least for starters, she could get a phone.


	11. Peace

Dumbledore woke up before the sun even rose beyond the mountainous forestry and peaks in the distance, a habit he had picked up in only a mere three days of staying in the Azure Dragon Palace. The inhabitants of the entire Peak seemed to rise early, earlier than he was used to back in Britain. The students would awaken from their living quarters and begin a morning exercise routine. Before daybreak, he would hear people shouting commands in Mandarin, and the sound of thundering feet around the perimeter of the peak was then heard. Breakfast was always with the students at the dining hall, a decision he made to feel akin to back when he was at Hogwarts. He was first given odd looks, but with a few well-placed smiles and tricks of the wand, he quickly traded the technique to master chopsticks. His thoughts often wander back to Hogwarts, and how the new school term had begun. Who had been sorted into which houses, what new students are here now and how are the teachers finding them? By this time, the houses would have begun practicing for Quidditch matches, and the sound of flying broomsticks and cheering was always something to look forward to.

He wondered about McGonagall, and how she was coping with it all. He knew he picked the right person for the job, a decision he never doubted, but just like Newt, he wondered if he was right to do that to begin with. And then his thought went to Newt and Theseus, two brothers who walked through his classes, who couldn’t be more different, but have finally come together for a common cause. Was that cause justified or the grounds to which they both shared a common loss really something to hold dear to? Or will the brothers find in themselves something to fight for in the coming battles? These are things that bothered Dumbledore on a subconscious level, but never quite surfaced to be addressed, for he never felt it was in his right to interfere with people anymore. 

After breakfast, the students would proceed for their morning classes, and Dumbledore would join Master Jiang at the palace for a full day meditation. There, in a vast chamber on the second floor, he sat cross-legged on a round hard cushion next to Master Jiang in complete silence. The only sounds he could hear were their breaths and his own thoughts in his mind. At first, his back began to ache, his body began to scream he needed the facilities. It did not take long to start overthinking or lose rhythm of his breaths. It was not until the second day, that he found himself finding a pace and system, where he could ordinate his mind and body to become aware internally and unaware of his surroundings simultaneously. By the third day, he was able to isolate thoughts and emotions and tune to them like a dial on a radio. Anytime something was too much, he was able to switch focus fairly quickly, and move back to the center.

“Ah. Mr. Dumbledore, how are you finding meditation?” the old master asked as they rose from their cushions in the quiet chamber, after three hours. Master Jiang straightened his white long shirt and looked up.

“It is a very calming and self-tuning process, but a difficult practice to maintain.” He said as he stood up and stretched himself. “But I must confess, feel much more at peace with each session.”

The master nodded and smiled, urging him to continue.

“The thoughts in my head are now more concrete and distinct, whereas previously they were fleeting and disconnected. It feels as though for my entire life they have been a sheen of mist that surrounds me and trying to catch a single one of them is of immense difficulty.” Dumbledore shook his head to wake himself. The master nodded more. “Yet after these sessions, I could see them take form with clarity.”

“Meditation brings you closer to yourself, by bringing attention to what needs to be addressed. I must say, Mr. Dumbledore,” The grandmaster stroked his chin a little. “It is very rare to find someone so accomplished, and willing to be vulnerable so quickly. It is a good sign, that you are beginning the journey.”

Dumbledore did not answer but gave a humble smile. The master merely nodded in acknowledgment of the silence. Some things need not be said, as elders themselves know very well. Only time can tell, and time will tell, eventually.

“Mr. Dumbledore how would you like to take a walk in the garden with me?” The master said as he stepped over the threshold of the chamber with Dumbledore following behind. The doors closed behind them automatically with a resounding boom that echoed in the chamber behind.

“With great pleasure,” Dumbledore said gestured for the master to lead the way, a form of courtesy he picked up watching his hosts at the school. Master Jiang returned his courtesy with and stepped towards the corridor that leads to the main hall. They rounded to the back of the palace and found a row of ivory steps of leading down into the clouds. It was as though he was in the sky, and now he is going back down to earth. The master took one step, and another, with ease into the unknown. Breathing the clear air, Dumbledore gave his surroundings a good moment of admiration, before following the master.

Behind them, there was a small squeak. The master gave a delightful cry and turned around. Dumbledore squinted back at the top of the stairs, and a tiny head popped out.

“Tian Yao!” The master clapped his hand and began to jump as he hopped like a child up a few steps back gleefully and picked up the baby dragon they saw yesterday. “You would like to come with us?”

The dragon opened its mouth and gave a small cry and a few jumps on his palm. Master Jiang snickered and hopped down the stairs where Dumbledore was waiting.

“Now, you cannot tell anyone you sneaked out, especially not SuYang.” He said in hush tones. “Mr. Dumbledore here won’t tell either.”

Dumbledore shook his head seriously. The master chuckled and placed the dragon on top of his head, amongst his white spiky hair. The dragon turned to look at Dumbledore and gave him a couple of small cries, before grabbing onto the white hair with its claws for balance.

“This is a baby azure dragon, a long descendant of my Master.” Master Jiang said as they continued down the cloudy steps. “His name is Tian Yao, it means heaven’s pride.”

Dumbledore smiled, and the dragon turned to give him a happy chirp, as though greeting him. Dumbledore then gave a small bow before chuckling.

“I know someone who would give anything to be here right now and meet you.” He said to the baby dragon and thought fondly of Newt.

“Is that so?” the master’s eyes darted twice before turning to Dumbledore. “Is this a friend of yours?”

“He used to be a student of mine, a very honorable and talented man whom I admire very much,” Dumbledore said, tucking his hands into his pockets and looked out into the clouds that they are slowly descending amongst. “He has one of the purest of hearts I have ever come across, and simply fascinated with the preservation of magical creatures, no matter how dangerous they can be.”

Master Jiang gave a meaningful nod and looked up to see Tian Yao looking down at him over his forehead.

“And may I inquire if this friend is well?” Master Jiang asked.

“I sincerely hope he is,” Dumbledore said, as he looked up, straight into the clear blue sky. “I fear I may have brought him great danger and pain in the past, and I wish to do neither again.”

“Every man knows where he stands with his morals.” Master Jiang said as-a-matter-of-factly. “I can see that you have much faith in this young man and his accomplishments and potential, it would be doing him a great dishonor to falter now.”

Dumbledore nodded with a quick glance at the Master, with a dragon on his head. He took a deep cooling mountain breath, and exhaled, feeling a calmness and peace enveloping him. 

“He has a brother too, an equally honorable gentleman. I have had the pleasure of teaching him throughout his whole education at Hogwarts.” Dumbledore said and nodded. “He is now the Head of the Auror Office at our ministry.”

“What a fine pair of brothers. Mr. Dumbledore you must be a very accomplished teacher to guide the students at Hogwarts. I definitely must visit someday.” Master Jiang exclaimed and clasped his hands together. 

“It would be my pleasure to host you at our castle.” Dumbledore turned to smile brightly. It was a very long time ago since Dumbledore made a friend. The last one did not turn out so well as it would have seemed. Sensing a shift in his thoughts, Master Jiang mused.

“Do tell me more about this, Auror office that you speak of.” He inquired. 

“They are dark wizard catchers at the Ministry of Magic. They work very closely with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, for any lawbreakers and to arrest anyone who breaks the International Statute of Secrecy.” Dumbledore explained.

“I see, I see…” Master Jiang uttered as he nodded in understanding. “Sounds like a job for SuYang.”

“What exactly is Miss. SuYang’s occupation as an administrator of the Palace?” Dumbledore asked. To which, the master burst out laughing, having thrown his head back so hard that the dragon atop his head clung onto his hair for balance and cried out in surprise.

“Is that what she introduced herself to you as?” Master Jiang continued to laugh. Dumbledore gave a confused smile and nodded. “Ah, haha…. My dear Mr. Dumbledore. SuYang is much more than just an administrator, ah haha. Oh my… haha… SuYang, she is my right hand, and an Auror if she were to take a position in your ministry.”

The master gave his chest several pats to calm himself down. The dragon on his head climbed further up for balance and squeaked with displeasure.

“SuYang is one of the brightest students I have ever taught, always a child of very little words, but great skills and willpower. Her family has been my students for so many generations, but alas, she is the last of her line. She is like a daughter to me, and I worry for her.” Master Jiang said, turning serious. “Upon graduation, I kept her around as an administrator indeed because she did not want to live outside. Over the years I see her skills develop further, and I would send her out for matters of the office and some of my own. Just like your friend, she has shown me great loyalty and honor. But I fear, I may have kept her with me for far too long.”

They descended the steps for a very long time, till they reached a vast garden that appears to be floating in mid-air, just above the next level of clouds. Tian Yao leaped from the master’s head excitedly and began diving into the nearest flower beds. The two men walked in silence on a dirt path that felt as solid as the ground, and Dumbledore took a moment to admire this surreal painting of scenery. There were endless plots of flowers of many colors as far as the eye could see. Instead of a garden, Dumbledore would consider this as a field, a plain in the wilderness. Occasionally, a deer would pop its head out from the flora and prance away. Butterflies danced from flower to flower, and in the distance beyond the flowers were majestic mountains with snow-capped ridges that towered over the field he was in. 

A pavilion stood alone in the middle of the wide field, with dark blue tiles covering the top supported by red carved pillars. They approached the pavilion and Dumbledore saw it had a round stone table accompanied by several stone chairs. The master sat down on one, gestured Dumbledore to the other opposite him. With a wave of his hand in the air, two teacups appeared and a white intricate teapot with a dragon head spout appeared to pour the hot tea. The master raised him to Dumbledore, who did the same before they both take a sip. The taste of the warm tea drew a stark contrast to the cold wind that was blowing in their direction. Master Jiang drained his cup with a satisfying sigh and set it down, looking at Dumbledore meaningfully.

“Mr. Dumbledore.” Master Jiang began. “It has been three days since you have come to us, I believe it is time, we examine your purpose of coming here.”

Dumbledore knew this was coming, in fact, he had been wondering when the master will broach the subject. Three days ago, he would have been reluctant to answer this question and would have sought ways to re-tell the story to put himself in a better light. But the three days of immersing in a forgotten peace has compelled him to be truthful to this man. After all, he did travel all the way here for answers to questions he could never speak of to anyone else.

Dumbledore nodded slowly and reached into his breast pocket to produce the blood pact. He watched the master closely and saw his eyes flicker with just a tiny tinge of surprise. The master inched forward for a better look out of curiosity and intrigue.

“A blood pact…” The master whispered as his eyes followed the floating pact and he reached for it slowly. “Extraordinary magic…”

The master raised his aged palm to it. Dumbledore watched the pact glow brighter, the metal case shimmering and the drops of blood in it circled faster and faster, till a force within it burst forth like a protective barrier, repulsing the master’s palm, knocking it back. 

“Very, very powerful bond.” The master breathed deeply as he lowered his hand and examined it. His palm was unscathed, a piece of information he took to great satisfaction. He smiled at Dumbledore, folded both his hands on the table, and waited. Dumbledore looked into those dark eyes and sighed a very heavy breath. He knew what he must do.

“I once told someone that confession is a relief, a great weight lifted.” Dumbledore closed his eyes, his lips curved. His head bobbing into a slow but resolute nod. “Perhaps it is my time.”

***

“Jacob do you have everything you need?” Newt called from the bottom of his basement as he turned around to look for something in the mess he made of his workstation.

“Yeah, I think so! Them mooncalfs I’ve fed them before no worries.” Jacob shouted back as he climbed down the stairs with a bucket. Nagini stood by and watched with extreme worry, she clutched her arm with blackened scaly hands and remained silent. Newt dropped a couple of items into his case and caught sight of her.

“Don’t worry you’ll be fine here,” Newt assured her as he picked up a few more bottles and knickknacks for his case. “Remember to take the potion, every three days, once at dawn and dusk.”

“What if people come to the house?” Nagini asked, hugging herself just as Jacob came by, setting down the bucket to listen.

“I’ve put a lock and a charm at the door, Theseus will be notified immediately if someone tries to break in,” Newt said, pulling on his coat. “Jacob?”

“Yeah, I’ve put up a sign that I’m going back to America for a while. But hey,” He laughed. “I ain’t got no friends around except for you two, nobody will come looking. Maybe a couple of grandmas who liked my rolls but oh well.”

“Stay inside, and if anything, send for Theseus, or Tina, or… Bunty…” his voice trailed away. Jacob gave him half a smile and a frown and a very slight shake of his head. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“Right.” Jacob nodded, still half smiling and half frowning. “But seriously Newt, you going to be okay? I uh, packed you some extra food here.”

Jacob searched around for a huge grocery bag that he had prepared earlier on Newt’s table and handed it to him. Newt gave him an awkward smile, something he has never quite been able to change despite how close of a friend he has come to be with Jacob. But he could understand Jacob, in a way. And he would someday tell him he is ever grateful for a friend in him.

“Safe travels, Newt,” Jacob said as the case was shut after an awkward silence. Newt gave them both a nod, and to Nagini a smile of assurance. Then he turned quickly towards his backdoor and left. Jacob and Nagini watched together as the backdoor knob glowed and disappeared. Newt then turned towards the steps leading up to the ground floor, and just before he reached the second landing to go up, he disapparated.

He reappeared on Dover, the hill lands ending on a cliff. The winds tore at his coat fiercely as his face turned cold instantly. He walked hurriedly against the wind towards the lone figure standing at the edge.

“Ah, Scamander… Paris again?” the tout breathed as he pushed the bucket to the front.

“No. Not this time.” Newt said. The tout raised an eyebrow and twitched his head. Sensing no other way to put it, Newt sighed. “I need to get to Sudan.”

The tout raised both eyebrows so high Newt thought it might join his hairline under the hat.

“Same as before, thirty, no bargains this time,” Newt said hurriedly before he could change his mind. The tout did not blink, neither did he speak, as though still in shock to hear his destination. To Newt’s surprise, the tout snapped out of his daze, rolled his eyes and breathed out.

“Time’s hard. I’ll take it. But it leaves in two hours.” the tout said simply, rummaging through his coat.

“Wh-Two hours?!” Newt frowned in disbelief, ready to be angry, in his own way.

“You didn’t tell me ahead. I didn’t prepare.” The man shrugged as he pulled out a small beer bottle and placed it on the grass. Newt stared back, a rare thing for him to do, hoping that he was merely joking and that Newt was incredibly serious right now. But the tout shrugged and stood there, looking away as he could do nothing more. Sighing in defeat, Newt looked around and contemplated his options and what to do next for two hours while he waits, wideout in the open with no cover.


	12. Flower in Mirror

Tian Yao poked his head out of the peony bed for surveillance. The butterflies he had chased after were too fast and flew too high for him so he stumbled out onto the pavement from a misstep. His body rolled further than his head, and he scrambled onto his feet to shake off his little tumble. His tiny feet pitter-pattered towards the pavilion where the two men sat since he was tired of playing. The baby dragon did not understand human emotions, having been born for only a mere fifty years upon this world, which was why he was very curious, why the younger of the two men, was crying very hard. He looked at the other side where the old master sat with closed eyes and a small serene smile as he waited for Dumbledore patiently. Tian Yao was confused, but he could feel the immense sadness from the other man, so he hastened his little feet and clawed his way towards the pavilion. 

Master Jiang felt a sudden wave of admiration for this man from the west. In mere days from deep-diving into subconsciousness, Dumbledore has demonstrated a remarkable talent for acquiring expertise and harnessing the power of becoming vulnerable and honest. Contrary to outside beliefs, the ability and willingness to cry is not a sign of weakness, but strength of self, a concept that Master Jiang truly holds in his heart. The longer Dumbledore held his face in his palm, the longer the master knew how far he had corroded himself internally with regret and fear. The sobs told him how hard the years have been, and the tears painted the story he kept hidden for so long. Master Jiang was in no hurry, for his own Master had said, Dumbledore needed the peace, and if anything, it was perhaps the only thing he could give this powerful guest from the far west.

Tian Yao crept with difficulty up the shallow steps of the pavilion and stopped to look. The younger man is still sobbing, with his head bowed low, his forehead pressing hard on his hand. Suddenly overcome with immense sadness, the baby dragon climbed with an extra burst of effort up one of the stone chairs and leaped onto the edge of the table. He took a tentative step towards Dumbledore and looked back at Master Jiang, who had opened one eye to look at him. Master Jiang shook his head seriously. The baby dragon cowered slightly and turned back helplessly to the younger man, with his head low and shoulders jumping from each hiccup. He curled his tiny body on the table and rested his head on his tail, looking at Dumbledore’s form sadly.

The winds outside picked up, carrying some petals with it into the air. The distant trees rustled, and their clothes billowed slightly. Master Jiang breathed steadily, as the man opposite him took a few choked breaths. He understood his pain, his sorrow, his desperation. The deeper he understood, the more he realized how complex Dumbledore had built himself to be. But was it necessary? Out of protection, or fear, or perhaps even affection? Master Jiang turned to look towards the faraway sky. Indeed, only time will tell. Patiently, he waited.

***

Newt glanced at his pocket watch and counted the seconds. Five more minutes. Five painful and anxious more minutes. He pocketed it and looked straight ahead at the edge of the cliff for a moment, then he stood up abruptly. He picked up his case and hurriedly walked towards the portkey tout. 

“You know how it works.” the tout said, ignoring his advance and began counting down.

Newt gave the hills one last glance, checking to see if anyone has appeared or perhaps hiding, and bidding goodbye to his home for a while. Never would he expect that he would willingly be embarking on a dangerous trip for Dumbledore again, except perhaps this time, Dumbledore really did not put him up for it. 

Or did he? One thing Newt knew for sure, was that Dumbledore was right about him. He only questions if the thing is right in itself, and if it is, it needs to be done, no matter the cost. He had chosen his side for the last ten years while working relentlessly with creatures, but he was also an informer to Theseus and Tina, a role he never thought he would undertake. It was uncharacteristic of him, but even he knew what was at stake. At the very least, he was on the side of the people he loves dearly, and since Dumbledore was very right about him, it simply meant he had to do things that he knew was right, but in the past would most likely not, yet have every reason and motivation to do so now.

“Five seconds.” the tout said, and Newt counted in his heart. Four, three, his heart pounded, two, and he bent down to pick up the bottle. Just like the last time, he felt himself sucked into a vortex, through space and soon, very dry air. He then felt himself being pushed forcefully from the tight space and onto the ground, a very wobbly ground that he almost lost his footing on. His feet kicked up a little sand, and he looked around him, feeling the familiarity. The dry desert, the solitude, and a memory that was filled with sadness. But now was not the time. 

In the distance not too far away, he could see a village. He gave a sad smile and turned the other way and walked as fast as he could in the vast emptiness, putting more distance between himself and the village, till it was nothing but a smudge on the horizon. The sun blazed at him, and his scarf was beginning to drench, but he kept moving. Once he made sure he was the only living soul in the immediate vicinity, he stopped and breathed deeply, throwing the bottle he had held in his hand for the whole time into the distance, and watch it disappear into space.

Newt set down his case on the hot sand and opened it. Under the lid was a different photo of Tina, one that she is smiling happily at him. Newt gave a split-second smile and turned focused the next.

“Come on now, there’s no one here, it’s okay.” he reached in to pull out a furry toy with a face and bells. He stepped back, giving the case some space. Looking around to check that there is no one out of habit, he shook the toy, making tinkle sounds that were muffled by the void around him. There was a soft cry from the case, and Newt braced himself. 

From the case burst forth the Zouwu, who leaped into the air and onto the sand with her powerful claws. Her mane of fiery red fur was glistening in the sun, and her scars have almost faded into non-existence and her cry was joyful. Happy to be out, the Zouwu gave a few leaps that kicked up sand to douse Newt in, shaking her mane to stretch herself. She looked out into the unfamiliarity and then back at Newt, and away again to get her bearings.

“I think it’s time,” Newt said, ringing the toy to get her attention. She snapped her head towards him and nuzzled him. “It’s time for you to go home.”

The Zouwu gave a sad whining growl and leaped a distance back, as though abhorrent of his suggestion.

“I know I will miss you too, but you do want to go home don’t you?” Newt went forward to stroke her mane, near her big eyes. “I will go with you to make sure you’re home, then I’ll need to find a friend. Will you take me there?”

The Zouwu’s eyes lit up and gave a hearty growl, before nuzzling him onto the ground, dousing him with more sand. Newt smiled brightly as he pushed the fangs away from his face to stand up. He dropped the toy back into the case before hopping onto her back.

“Now we’re in Sudan, a very far away from China. Do you know the way home?” Newt asked as he nestled himself to get ready. She gave her surroundings a look, turned around a few times and up into the sky to find her bearings. It took her perhaps five minutes of turning around, and just when Newt was about to realize perhaps this was a big mistake, she gave a startled cry in a direction. Under him, Newt felt her excitement. She swished her long tail and leaped towards the East, pulling Newt with her as her powerful feet leaped so fast and far into the next sand dune.

***

Dumbledore’s head hurt, so terribly bad. He felt like his head could split physically in half if he continued like this. Being vulnerable to his thoughts and feelings had made himself raw and in turn, intensified all these feelings and thoughts. Dumbledore felt incredibly weak, and tender all over, even the wind felt colder, as though his defense had completely melted away, exposing him to the elements. He had lost track of time, of how long he had cried. 

Slowly, he began to feel his shoulders completely slumped, his limbs losing feeling and his body weightless. His emotional release, while intense, was cathartic. More importantly, much, very much needed. Years upon years of self-torture had led him on a dangerous path that was only curated by his regret and fear. Dumbledore knew, at any one time, should he take a wrong step, he would fall so fast and far, to perhaps a point of no return. Which is why he chose to remain at Hogwarts, a place where he knew he would be disciplined by the scrutiny of the outside world. His sobs became quieter, and he gradually became more aware of the tiredness that comes with a huge emotional release. He did not want to open his eyes, he just wanted to fall asleep right there. He just wants to rest, he needed a break, from life.

Dumbledore felt something on the arm that he had rested his head on. Opening his eyes slightly and blinking away the veil of tears, he saw a worried baby dragon face leaning on the arm and staring up at him, uttering a small mournful cry. Dumbledore forced a quick smile and reached with his free hand to stroke the head of the dragon gently, he sniffed hard and gave a small hiccup. He swallowed hard and forced the smile on as soon as it melted away.

He looked to the ceiling of the pavilion at the intricate tessellation of the tiles, letting the last of the tears fall, and the wind to dry them on his face. It felt especially cold on the streams of tear trails, giving him a much-needed jolt awakening. Lowering his head, he saw the grandmaster opposite him, with his eyes closed and a serene smile on his face, meditating. Dumbledore had no idea how long he had sat there, or how long had he been crying. But he was grateful for simply the opportunity and privacy to do so.

“How are you feeling?” the grand master’s voice came, his eyes remained closed. Dumbledore gave a hard sniff and wiped his eyes with a nod, knowing nothing escapes this grandmaster indeed.

“Incredibly raw,” he answered with a tearful smile. The grandmaster gave a slow nod. Dumbledore dried the last of his tears quickly and straightened himself. It was as if the master knew, because the moment Dumbledore was finally calm and ready to talk, he then opened his eyes.

“Moon in the water, flowers in the mirror, these are unattainable dreams, that serves only to misdirect and misguide.” Master Jiang reached out to pour some tea. “I sense that you are very aware of that now for some things that happened in life, but there are some things that you are looking to attain, some desires that you are uncomfortable to share still.”

Dumbledore couldn’t help his mind offering up the image of him looking into the Mirror of Erised and the very same reflection that has not changed for the last eleven years. He wondered if the master could see that far and looked up to face him.

“But I must ask you,” Master Jiang set down his cup of tea and looked up meaningfully. “What is it that you truly desire, Mr. Dumbledore?”

Dumbledore instinctively looked up at the blood pact that was just floating in the air above them. It pains him that this one keepsake, a symbol of their bond, had brought about a chain of events that ultimately did the opposite of what they had originally intended to. He looked at Master Jiang, who waited patiently for his answer.

The frown on his face and his silence was answer enough. Master Jiang picked up his tea and sipped. Because Dumbledore, while he saw what he wanted, did not know what exactly did it actually mean. He could deny, he could interpret in every way possible, but Dumbledore knew he never let himself truly believed what he saw was really what he wanted.

Did he want Grindelwald to realize his mistake, or did he want Grindelwald to return? Did perhaps he wanted to join Grindelwald again or was it, something else? The thoughts pained Dumbledore deeply.

Tian Yao gave a small cry and nudged Dumbledore’s teacup towards him, the earthen wear made a scraping sound on the stone table as it moved a tinge closer. Giving him a weak smile, he picked it up and sipped. It was not tea, at least, it did not taste like tea. It was bitter, cold and unsavory. The two men sat in silence, one in awkward silence, one at peace with the afternoon breeze.

The more Dumbledore’s mind began to think, the more concrete each thought felt, and it seemed like everything could be true, every conclusion he reached could be a possibility. He began to rationalize his thoughts, reasoned with himself, argued and counter-argued. The tea remained bitter and awful, in fact, it might have gotten worse. The silence remained suffocating to Dumbledore, while Master Jiang remained serenely at peace, enjoying his tea with an occasional sniff at its supposed aroma.

It was only when Dumbledore’s mind felt tired easily after years upon years of circular arguments, and with his augmented mind at present, that he realized, it wasn’t Grindelwald or the death of his family that cut him the deepest.

It was himself. Each self-blaming thought, each denial he had for justifying Grindelwald’s ideas, each refusal to go out to face him in fear of a repeat of history, was a self-inflicted wound upon himself. Each time he told himself he was not to be trusted with power, each time he told himself he could turn bad, that he was bad to have birthed this revolution in the first place, was a cut and another cut he put on himself. There was a voice deep inside, that told him he was the worst, that he should not even be allowed to be a teacher because of what he could be capable of. Dumbledore knew that he had given the voice enough power over the years to berate himself, to tear himself down inside as the outside world celebrated his greatness, thinking he was not worthy of a love that was rightfully his as a human, all the while thinking that it was keeping himself in check. But it was not, and the effect this voice has had was right here in front of him. 

A broken man under a polished facade, an empty but divided self that was constantly at conflict with himself. It was tiring, exhausting, not to mention detrimental. Dumbledore did not fear death or the deterioration of himself. But he had a different fear now, with the cries of salvation ringing at his door every day. Every letter, every plea, every article or rumor that reached him, was a sign that he needed to take responsibility for not just what happened to his family. It was true that perhaps if he had put in just that bit more, things might have changed. But everything that has happened to this day, Dumbledore has accepted responsibility. Even at this moment, when he realized his internal monologue, one that nobody has heard in the entirety of his life except himself. 

What he needed now, was to take action for that responsibility. The answer to the grandmaster’s question was simple, something he had never let himself even say out loud.

“I want to stop him,” he said finally. “Because,”

Master Jiang paused in a mid-sip and looked up. Tian Yao tilted its small head, still in innocent confusion. Dumbledore looked down and shook his head in resignation.

“Because,” He took a deep breath and picked up his cup. “Because I love him.”

Without waiting for a reaction, he raised his cup and drained the rest of the tasteless liquid. Only it wasn’t tasteless anymore. It was a sweet, aromatic flower tea. Dumbledore swallowed, and his eyes welled once again as he looked into his cup to find his reflection staring back at him in the tiny cup.

Never had he thought, it was that simple; it was that easy, and what a relief it would bring him, once he said that out loud when he had given it his unchallenged resolution. This was perhaps the confession that he needed. It was not about his sister, nor to his brother, not even to his family’s history that he thought of a million ways he possibly could have changed the fate of. It was a confession about himself, to himself that he needed to make. He couldn’t help but feel his lips curve slightly, savoring the lingering taste of sweetness in his mouth. Dumbledore felt another wave of tears coming, and this time, he let them flow, with his head held high.

He looked down briefly at his cup, seeing nothing that could be the source of the sweetness in the tea that is now becoming stronger in his mouth. Confused, he sought out the grandmaster who was positively beaming with huge relief and admiration. He raised his hands into a slow clap and a happy sigh.

“Now then, Mr. Dumbledore,” The master spoke with a wise grin, his deep old voice bringing much comfort to him. “I might have a solution for you.”


	13. Yin Yang

Newt fell onto the ground of the forest and tumbled in a roll to a stop. After the fifty-sixth time, he thought he ought to have gotten used to it. The Zouwu then pranced lightly as she gave a stretch of her back right up to her tail and flopped onto the lush forest undergrowth. His aching back did not distract him from how happy the Zouwu is, having leaped across countries for hours. He had no idea where he was, or how far he was away from where he needed to go. He briefly caught sight of some Russian words on signs that he passed, he must be somewhere in the Soviet Union. At least, he was heading in the right direction, and quite possibly, thankfully, away from Grindelwald’s territories.

He sat down to open his case, and the first thing to pop out was the bag of pastries that Jacob had packed for him. Newt looked into it and produced a demiguise pastry, one of his top favorites. He thought of Dougal minding his business in his basement, of Jacob perhaps making dinner preparations in his kitchen, of Nagini sitting in the Runespoor’s cave quietly, and the nifflers that would be the source of a fair bit of headache to his friends at home. As he bit into the pastry, watching the Zouwu sniff around and pounced on something in the bushes, his mind wandered to Tina, whom he felt the most yearning for. The thought of her alone in New York, working day and night against the global campaign was very heart-wrenching. Many times he wondered if he should have said something, for Tina, as he knew her, has never shown him any sign that she would falter at this time of unrest. But she is an Auror, and he is not. And he knew well that he was in no right to stop her from doing something she was so proud of. Neither did he have the courage to ask her to stay, for that matter.

The Zouwu gave a rumble and came back with a bunch of berries in its mouth, happy with her lunch and flopped in front of Newt and began to chew on the entire branch. It would be difficult to say goodbye, Newt thought to himself, but he knew, as many of the creatures he rescued before, they belong elsewhere, and not with him. It was his life purpose, something he felt grateful to have found at a very young age, despite much resistance and disapproval. But at the same time, it was the one thing that perhaps Tina admired him most for. He let himself indulge a little by grinning as widely as he possibly could as he bit into his food, knowing that the Zouwu, would not judge him or tease him about. Theseus and Jacob, on the other hand, would. Mercilessly. 

His mind then wandered to the reason why he was even here. For a moment, he began to question, is it even possible that Dumbledore needed help to begin with? Who does he think he is, that he’s out to save Dumbledore? So what if he finds Dumbledore and warns him of the Ministry’s direction, was he trying to get Dumbledore to go back home and clear his name and intentions, or just a warning for him to stay away, which as he thought about it, sounds more and more ridiculous. And more to the point, once they have reached China, what is his next step to try to find Dumbledore? Madam Ya Zhou had kindly informed him of the four magic arts schools in China, and a distant conversation with Dumbledore has led him to conclude that he needed to make his way to the south of China, to a volcanic field on an island. There, Madam Ya Zhou’s teacher, the Mistress of the Vermillion Bird Tower resides, and where she received her magic education. It was not a phoenix, but that is the closest to a clue he could find.

He finished his pastry and picked up his case to search for water. The Zouwu trailed behind him, hopping from side to side, as though eager to start her journey again. He patted her head and followed the remote sound of the forest, in search of water.

***

Dumbledore followed the old master by his side as he treaded through the flower field. The dirt path had disappeared, as though this place had never been tainted by human activity. He turned to see that they are so far away from where they started that the pavilion had almost disappeared into a dot. Just how big this supposed garden really is, and what lies at the end? Tian Yao had settled upon the head of the master again, this time curled into a bundle and sleeping soundly with his claws still clasped tightly around the white hair.

There were a few wisps of clouds that they appeared to be walking towards in the midst of the flowers, and Dumbledore noticed they have been going uphill, a strange elevation that appeared quite flat until he turned around. The old master then slowed down and eventually stood still. Dumbledore turned quickly to look and paused, which was a close relief as his last step ended in rock. He looked down to see them standing on the precipice of a sheer cliff. Ahead of them was pure nothingness, just clouds floating without a care, and emptiness ahead. Below them, he could hear the sound of running water, but when he looked down, all he saw, was mere ominous darkness.

Tian Yao had woken up and did the same as Dumbledore. He crept towards the edge of the master’s forehead and with a terrified cry, the baby dragon scampered down the head of Master Jiang and into his robes. Master Jiang paid no notice but merely smiled into the emptiness as though admiring a beautiful painting.

Dumbledore stood very still now that the possibility of him falling over was now established, his mind began automatically to think of reasons or purposes of why the old master had brought him here. Is there something in the darkness that he was supposed to find, was there a point of enlightenment here in the meaning of emptiness? Or perhaps this was a poetic way of describing a leap of faith into the unknown? Master Jiang turned to look at him, and with respect, Dumbledore did the same, glad to turn away from perilous darkness.

“Mr. Dumbledore. May I first begin by saying, you are indeed a very honorable man and it is my privilege, to have met and be acquainted with you.” the master gave him a deep bow and salute.

“No, no, Master Jiang-” Dumbledore’s hands instinctively reached out to stop the master who ignored and gracefully looked up after a deep bow. The voice in his head began whispering of his unworthiness again.

“You have shown me great respect and trust back there and have paid my students and my school many generous compliments. I am honored.” the master continued. “But now, I must ask you to extend your honesty once again and answer my question.”

Dumbledore gave a slow nod.

“Do you think you are able to stop him?”

Dumbledore could not answer instinctively, his mind began to offer various answers all at once, he could feel his mind becoming clouded again. Master Jiang nodded at the silence.

“What about,” Master Jiang breathed deeply. “Do you think you won’t be able to stop him?”

Dumbledore’s mind immediately filled itself instinctively with horrifying images of history happening to everyone at present. Master Jiang nodded again at the silence.

“Master Jiang, if I fail, people will perish.” Dumbledore began, his voice wavering painfully.

“That is true, but everyone dies at one point, their deaths will just be brought about earlier.” Master Jiang said, as a matter-of-factly. Dumbledore felt his forehead crease again whenever the master seemed to take horrors very lightheartedly. He spoke of the truth, no doubt, but the way he had done so, including the time with the Dementors told Dumbledore that perhaps there was more in the wisdom that the master was able to see.

“I can’t move against him.” Dumbledore lamented again, a sentence he said it once, painfully. He opened his palm to show the blood pact. 

“Now Mr. Dumbledore, I have another question.” Master Jiang added. “What is it that you truly fear?”

It took a moment for Dumbledore to realize his eyes had welled. This, he could answer.

“The truth that I killed my sister.” Dumbledore’s face began to distort as he held himself together poorly.

“Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Dumbledore.” Master Jiang gave him a deep nod. “And may I ask, what do you remember of your sister?”

Dumbledore now could not answer as his hand flew up to his mouth to muffle another wave of tears, but he composed himself as quickly as the wave hit him. It was a hard answer, for him to face, something he knew he should have done a very long time ago. 

“She was the sweetest girl that I was too selfish to love. An innocent girl who wanted nothing more to be with a brother who could not care to look at her.” Dumbledore said, letting himself cry even harder this time. He turned to face the edge of the cliff, the emptiness seemed to be very inviting and comforting all of a sudden. He felt an affinity towards the darkness, as though he knew all along that was what he was made of. Perhaps the voice was right, on some levels. Master Jiang turned towards the darkness, admiring it still. 

“What can I do, Master Jiang?” Dumbledore began to plea. “If I don’t move, more people will die. If I do, there is a great chance that history repeats itself on a larger scale.”

He let blood pact float in the air between them. At this present moment, he could not help but feel a genuine distaste for its presence. Master Jiang took a deep breath and nodded, his body bouncing with it.

“Mr. Dumbledore, when I asked for your honesty in my first two questions, do you realize you have already answered them?” Master Jiang said with a meaningful smile. Dumbledore shook his head, honestly this time. “When you said, you wish to stop him, you have already told me the truth. It is often not so much what we can do, or cannot. It is what we want, or not want to do.”

Dumbledore turned to face the man.

“It has always been deep within you, that you wish to stop him from making more mistakes, of committing more atrocities to the world in your eyes, but you have also found many reasons to stop yourself from taking action. You have clouded yourself by saying you cannot, to a very fundamental fact that you simply want to, because you love this person deeply.” Master Jiang continued, without a shred of holding back his words. Dumbledore knew he spoke of the raw truth, despite how brutal they sounded. He wanted to be berated, he wanted someone to shout that he had been an awful person all these while, to confirm what the voice in his head said. But Master Jiang knew that it would be of no value to Dumbledore if he were to speak of blame and repent. For Dumbledore, was not a mere student who had come to his school for guidance. 

“And because of past events, you have led yourself to believe in something that you have pieced together to help with your grieving, to give a reason for the complexity that you have built yourself up with regards to this tragedy that happened long ago. This is what my master is trying to help you understand. The moon in the water, the flowers in the mirror.”

The old master crossed his hands behind his back as he looked out into the emptiness with the peace of a man who had walked many lifetimes.

“We humans are often blinded by what we think we see, or hear, or understand. What you cannot see or understand, does not necessarily mean it does not exist or is not true. It all depends on your heart, what you believe, or choose not to believe. When people believe, they can achieve great things, and just like the balance that governs the universe, the opposite would mean, what we choose not to believe in or to believe the opposite of, will begin to break. Do you understand now, Mr. Dumbledore?”

Dumbledore held his breath as he took in all the master’s words. It was nothing that he doesn’t already know, but yet, he did not understand what it meant during the times that he thought he knew. Master Jiang closed his eyes, as the winds picked up, tearing at his clothes.

“There is a saying we have here; to undo a tied bell, you need the one who tied the bell. There are many powerful spells and forces in the world, but nothing is more powerful than the one that lives within us. Only the two people who made the pact can break the pact.” Master Jiang smiled thoughtfully as he took in a deep breath of the clean, fresh mountain air. “And on some levels, Mr. Dumbledore if you think about it, perhaps if it had not been broken when it was not within your possession, it might mean that the belief in which the pact was built on, still lives, by both of you.” 

Dumbledore had not ever considered that, not once, in the last eleven years of possessing it. Master Jiang’s words called into question if he truly understood the magic that went into the forming of this pact, that his years of acquired knowledge and wisdom had failed him in this very task that was right here in his possession. The two men did not speak for a long while, as they both stared into the emptiness, one in anguish, one at ease. Alas, it was Dumbledore who spoke, this time, more truth.

“Master Jiang, I fear that there is a darkness inside me that have led the world to this point, a version of myself that once believed and pursued the idea that is the very cause of pain to the world today,” Dumbledore said quietly, his voice barely a whisper against the winds of the cliffs, his voice void of emotion from fatigue. “And this me, to face the one that I love deeply, to stop him would mean to hurt him, to become the man he is now.”

"My dear Mr. Dumbledore. This is a very common misconception.” Master Jiang turned abruptly to face him, his face had been lit and his voice excited, as though it gave him great pleasure in explanation. “Look at the emptiness below you, there is a sea of black darkness, and void. But look closely in black there are some white clouds.”

Dumbledore looked down into the darkness, and true enough, there were clouds and mist floating in the midst, nothing that was out of the ordinary given they were so high in the mountains. Then Master Jiang gestured up.

“Now look up into the sky, the sky is now white and clear , but are some darker grey spots to indicate the presence of clouds.” Master Jiang continued, turning back to him. “This, my dear Mr. Dumbledore, is the concept of the Yin and the Yang, where forces that seemed contradictory, are actually complementary and interconnected in the natural world.”

Dumbledore frowned deeply, trying hard to reconcile himself.

“Sometimes the clouds appear white,” he pointed to the dark void. “And sometimes they appear dark”. 

He gestured back up to the sky.

“But are they not the same clouds? Just because they appear differently does not mean they are not the same thing. I teach my students that nothing is certain. In the purest of heart, there lies a little darkness, and in the darkest of souls, there is a light that could save him. The same goes for the constant battle between good and evil. The good seems to suffer at the hands of evil, and sometimes you need to be a little more devious in order to defeat evil. But does that make you evil? Perhaps not.” Master Jiang shrugged exaggeratedly. 

The afternoon sun was moving across the sky. Dumbledore’s heart and mind were both full and empty at the same time. He did not know what to make of the information he had just been given, or rather, reintroduced. It was a perspective that he never thought to take, something that in his years of fighting hard at something he thought he understood intrinsically, he had forgotten to open his mind to the endless possibilities. Yet at this point of no return, Dumbledore had no choice but to face the facts, especially when it had laid out so plainly in front of him. He definitely had much to work on, but he could somehow understand the peace that accompanied the old master. It could be done, it was just a matter of whether he wanted to or not. 

“I believe it is time we head back, Tian Yao should be home before SuYang gets back.” Master Jiang broke the tranquility of the mountain silence. Inside his robes, TianYao flinched. 


	14. Chapter 14

Master Jiang broke into a hurried dash as he leaped up the last few steps to the top of the palace. 

_“Quick! Quick!”_ Master Jiang uttered as he broke into a jog that surprised Dumbledore. _“Quick get back! Before_ _SuYang_ _comes back!”_

His hand outstretched as he held Tian Yao delicately as though he was a bowl of hot soup, the little dragon squeaking with panic and jumping in his palm. Dumbledore did not quite understand the hurry and what consequences would follow should SuYang find them in this state, but it was definitely a change in the atmosphere that he was grateful for. He realized he has a lot to think and understand over what has happened, and a sudden tangent of distraction like this would be ideal to reset his emotions and focus.

Master Jiang skidded to a stop right in front of a wooden screen door and pushed it slightly open. He could not see the interior, but it was brightly lit, almost glowly like the chamber where he met the Azure Dragon himself.

 _“Quick, get inside!”_ the baby dragon slipped inside and Master Jiang closed the door quickly before heaving a huge sigh of relief. Dumbledore could not help but feel a little chuckle trying to escape him at this comical sight that he was utterly clueless about. Master Jiang leaned against the closed door, catching his breath and looked around cautiously. 

“Mr. Dumbledore, it seems we have missed a hearty lunch!” Master Jiang exclaimed as he looked up at the sky that was set aglow with an orange tinge. Upon that, Dumbledore felt his stomach growled.

“Indeed, I did not even realize.” Dumbledore smiled and looked out to the school and square from their vantage point. Beyond the edge of the peak was a horizon some distance away with the bright big sun inching downwards. “The sun is soon to set.”

“Yes, it has been a day has it not? Now Mr. Dumbledore, what say we have an early dinner? Tonight is the night of a full moon, a very special night.” Master Jiang said, gesturing the way further down the corridor. Dumbledore gave a courteous nod and followed. He had no desire to eat, a sensation that was contradicting his reaction to meditation the day before. He felt like he had eaten a whole feast worth of words and emotions and confusion, and his body is reacting very counterintuitively after almost twelve hours without food. But not wanting to be rude, and hoping to perhaps find a moment to speak to Master Jiang, he complied. 

They soon found themselves walking into an oriental dining room, decorated with aged carved furniture, embroidered drapes, and table runners. The candles inside lit automatically as they entered, each red atop a golden candle stand, lighting the room with a cozy feel despite the luxurious decoration. The old master strolled in without much thought and waved his hand. The folding doors ahead of them opened to reveal a large balcony with two large wooden armchairs separated by an ornate marble square table with a tea set on top of it.

Beyond the balcony, Dumbledore could see the sky painted in orange, and blurring the tops of mountain peaks in the distance was the bright setting sun. Dumbledore sighed at the beauty of this oriental painting of nature in front of him. The view reminded him of the evenings when classes end, and he would return to the office to put down his things and head for dinner. In that small window of time, he would look out of his office window, over the great lake and to the mountains beyond, everything lit by the setting sun and satisfaction of the end of a good day. The memory of it made Dumbledore miss Hogwarts dearly suddenly. It was not a mere fondness for the school that he spent most of his life. Hogwarts was his sanctuary. 

***

McGonagall hurried through the streets of Hogsmeade as she drew her cloak tighter around her. Just a little more, she thought, and past the gates of Hogwarts, she would be fine. She picked up the pace and under her cloak, her hand grasped her wand tightly ready at a moment’s notice. A twig snapped behind her and she flinched slightly. Was it her? Or something else? McGonagall was never one to leave things to chance, so she hurried behind a tree and disappeared into the darkness.

The two cloaked figures that had been following her dashed towards the tree they saw her last and found no trace of the woman. They split to search the immediate vicinity, but there was nothing to be found. Then, they heard a meow further down the path, and a cat dashed out of the undergrowth that was startled by the rustling of the bushes. The cat gave them a sharp hiss and turned on its heels to gallop off. Thinking nothing of it, the two figures continued to search for a while and took off into the bushes.

The cat turned briefly to check her behind and continued dashing ahead towards the viaduct of the school. It did not stop, as its four legs ran as fast as they could down the gradually darkening stone path. Nobody noticed the tabby cat, the tiny shadow moving down the side of the path and towards the school. Once past the gates, the cat leaped towards the nearest castle doors and into an empty corridor.

McGonagall caught her breath as she emerged and walked with a forced poise down the hallway. She straightened her dress, pulled off her cloak and slowed her pace. She gave the statue she passed a look, and the statue gave an ever so slight nod that would be missed at the blink of an eye. She turned back, passed several students who nodded their evening greetings and went up the stairs towards her own office. Closing the door behind her, she sighed with relief and sank onto her chair. This is probably the last time she will leave the school premise until she is back in her own time.

Because that option seemed much easier to manage, as opposed to refusing another favor for Dumbledore, as dangerous as it might be. She knew full well that Dumbledore has been offered the position of Minister of Magic multiple times, and every time the excuse would be that he was not to be trusted with such power. She gave a huff as she hung her cloak and looked towards the night sky outside. It was a full moon, and it gave her a slight chill. Perhaps with Dumbledore at the helm of the ministry, they might be less inclined to waste resources tracking unnecessary acquaintances with people of interest.

***

Dumbledore surprised himself, that with a mere few days he had semi-mastered the use of chopsticks, having just picked up a thinly sliced cucumber, and sending it swiftly into his mouth without dropping. Barely two days ago, the same sliced cucumber at dinner slipped off his chopsticks right at the tip of his opened mouth. The effect was a peal of sniggering laughter amongst his immediate vicinity at the table where the curiosity of students was piqued. Someone was kind enough to demonstrate the proper use, and he attempted again, with slightly better results. 

In the separated dining hall, the food was served just like the great dining hall of Hogwarts. The big china dishes in the center would change throughout the courses of the meals, first it was an assortment of cold side dishes, and when they are done the plate cleared by itself and a full-sized steam fish with spices appeared. The bigger soup bowl never seemed to empty as it refills itself with an aromatic rich broth, and instead of teacups, Master Jiang appeared to have brought out some fine grade _Baijiu_ , served with smaller jade cups, poured from a taller jade tumbler that narrowed at the top. 

“Yes, Mr. Dumbledore. I too, have my fair share of troubled students.” Master Jiang said as he sipped his _Baijiu_. “I had the displeasure to banish a few throughout my time as a teacher, and some of them I am sad to say were later caught by my administration building and locked in our prison.”

“Banish? That is like an expulsion from the school?” Dumbledore asked, watching his cup refill with more _Baijiu_ from the tumbler that tipped over by itself.

“Yes, I had to banish them from the school and the mountains, never to return. They are free to seek education elsewhere, but never again at my institution. It was then they turned for the worse, a few returned to seek revenge.” Master Jiang said bitterly, a little more than usual. “My students are like my own children, and to have to do that, is something no parent should have to experience.”

“I understand what you mean, Master Jiang,” Dumbledore said quietly. He took a deep breath, his mind immediately thought of one person. “It was not my decision, but I felt it was still my place as a teacher, to defend my student who, in my opinion, did not have to leave.”

“Is this the honorable friend that you speak of?” Master Jiang inquired further.

“Yes, his name is Newt Scamander, an expert on magical creatures and a very kind man,” Dumbledore answered with a hint of pride. “He has shown me great friendship after school and has suffered dearly in the past.”

“But as you said, Mr. Dumbledore. It is in the past. What has happened unfortunately cannot be reversed. What we can do is to move forward with clear intentions and purposes. Just like your honorable friend has, based on what you have told me.” Master Jiang raised his cup to him, and Dumbledore returned the gesture.

“He would be very keen to visit China if he had the opportunity.” Dumbledore smiled.

“And I would be very pleased to welcome him.” the old master said a little more excited. “What about you Mr. Dumbledore, please do tell me more about Hogwarts? If ever I have the opportunity, I would very much like to visit. What do you teach?”

“I teach transfiguration,” Dumbledore replied, and when the master gave a very tiny frown, he set down his chopsticks and pulled out his wand. With a flick of the tip, a water goblet with dragon wings appeared in front of him, and it slowly floated to the table. Master Jiang gave a small clap. Dumbledore then pointed the wand at the goblet, and it transfigured into a tiny dragon where it flapped its wings to take flight.

“Oh ho ho!” Master Jiang gave a yelp of delight as he opened his hands to catch the flapping dragon that was struggling to stay airborne. Master Jiang cooed at the tiny grey dragon, as though coaxing a baby. “This one looks just like the ones we have in the far northeast, where the volcanos are.”

“The Chinese Fireball?” Dumbledore remarked. Master Jiang looked up briefly taking a break from tickling the baby dragon, seemingly pondering at the name Dumbledore gave to the species of dragon, then gave a meaningful nod as though it seemed appropriate and went back to cooing the dragon. “This is an Ukranian Ironbelly.”

Master Jiang appears to not have heard as he continued to tickle the dragon on its snout. The dragon shook its head in displeasure as it wriggled away from the attacking finger. After giving a very hard sneeze, the tiny dragon shook its head to orient itself. Master Jiang gave a hearty laugh as it hobbled back to Dumbledore, who reversed his spells with a graceful set of wand movements, turning it back into a water goblet, and sending it back.

“Remarkable, absolutely remarkable!” Master Jiang gave him an applaud and a salute with his hands as gratitude. “Is that what Hogwarts specializes in? Transfiguration?”

“No, no. We have Charms, Astronomy, Potions-making, Divination, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, a few to name.” Dumbledore answered. Master Jiang nodded as he listened with increasing awe as he learned that the students are trained to be all-rounders. “What about you Master Jiang, what do you teach here at the school?”

“Our school teaches the basics of magic arts and physical combat, and but we specialize in strategy, and summoning as you have witnessed on your first day here.” Master Jiang said proudly, reminiscing of his students’ performance that day. He held out his hand, and Dumbledore saw a series of glowing characters appeared on his hand and a twig of white blossom appeared with an intricate vase that he then set down upon the center of the dinner table. 

“So in a way, some form of transfiguration as well.” Dumbledore laughed as he felt a tinge of commonality towards the grandmaster. Master Jiang fell into deep thought, before bursting out in laughter and nodded in agreement. 

“We the descendants of the Azure Dragon specializes in strategy and summoning, Master Yuan and her students are masters of illusion and performing arts. Master Tang is the most skilled combatant in the whole of China and his students are champions of martial arts and weaponry. Master Ao is a divine healer of many ailments and maladies and his followers have medical facilities all over the country.” Master Jiang continued to explain. Dumbledore could tell that even with the title of the grandmaster, Master Jiang was very respectful towards his fellow masters as he spoke so fondly of each of them. “What about Hogwarts? There are four houses you say?”

Dumbledore gave a small chuckle and kept his wand.

“The four houses are named after each of the founders of the school. The courage and bravery of Godric Gryffindor, loyal and hardworking Helga Hufflepuff, intelligence and wisdom to Rowena Ravenclaw and ambition and resourcefulness of Salazar Slytherin.” Dumbledore said. “When the first-year students at eleven years old arrive, they are sorted into the four houses by The Sorting Hat.”

“A hat?” Master Jiang imitated the wearing of headgear. 

“Yes, it is an old relic left behind by Godric Gryffindor, it looks deep into each student and sorts them into the houses that will bring out their best.” Dumbledore continued. Master Jiang listened closely, intrigued. 

“Ah, let me harbor a guess.” Master Jiang leaned back and stroked his chin as he watched Dumbledore. “When you were a student, the hat… hmm… surely, Mr. Dumbledore, you were sorted into the House of Godric Gryffindor.”

Dumbledore could only laugh and nod. He raised his cup to the old master. The two men then continued feasting on the never-ending dinner that refilled itself. The sun outside had set completely, and the gradual glow of the moon was illuminating the balcony. Dumbledore took a deep breath and straightened himself as he felt he had overeaten and reached to comfort his tummy a little. 

“Oh! It’s starting!” Master Jiang leaped from his seat suddenly. Dumbledore looked up as Master Jiang quickly ushered him away from the dining table. He followed the master as he bounced happily towards the two seats at the balcony. The master offered him the one on the left and he himself sat down on the right. The tea set beside them began to rumble, and behind him, the dining room dimmed, which in contrast, made the glow of the full moon even brighter. “Listen closely.”

Dumbledore leaned forward in his seat and strained his ear. Nothing. He turned to see the master swaying gently with his eyes closed. Sensing something out of his induction these three days, Dumbledore took a deep breath and closed his eyes too.

And sure enough, as soon as his vision diminished, his other senses picked up. The prickling of the wind against his skin and hair, the smell of the cold mountain air, and then, he heard it. 

A very clear solo melody piercing through the silence of the mountains. From the way it sounded, Dumbledore concluded that there must be a flute player somewhere in one of the peaks. It was haunting, and melancholic, as though it was telling a forlorn story though a single tune.

Then somewhere else, from another direction, Dumbledore heard another melody continuing from the first. This time it was not a flute, but a very sonorous sound from a string instrument. The melody somehow invoked a yearning from deep within Dumbledore, about something far away, long ago.

Just when he thought it was a duet between two instruments, a third joined in, this time a deeper tone continued the lament as though from the bottom of the mountains. Dumbledore felt a wave of emotions overpower him, some of which were still raw from earlier today. His mind began to race, as it flashed images of him looking into the Mirror of Erised, of the person he saw inside. Then he saw his brother, his friends, McGonagall, Newt, Theseus…

His mind was lost in the midst of the distant music, and he did not realize a fourth instrument that he has never heard before was accompanying the melodies, in a harmony that seemed almost perfectly joined together despite the vast distance between each player. Dumbledore felt his heart ache, a sensation that he had long forgotten but reprised so many times over the days of late. He suddenly felt a stab of realization, as he wondered if he had been selfish, running away from home like that. Sure, he might have intended to come to seek help, something he is now questioning if his helplessness was a deliberate attempt to avoid and escape reality. It might have been a little high and mighty of him to assume that he was the reason why Britain remained relatively safe from Grindelwald’s campaign all these years, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel he was being incredibly selfish, just like how he was in the past. There are people who looked up and depended on him, and he had managed to put most of his most trusted people in jeopardy and danger.

The master’s words to him earlier, it was nothing he has not already known, and for some, even echoed. Dumbledore knew he had to be the one to fight Grindelwald in the end, there was no other way, and no one else. Dumbledore knew he had to be the one to break the blood pact because Grindelwald had more reason not to. Dumbledore knew he had to be all he is, and much more. But he is still missing one crucial detail, to prevent a tragic repeat of history.

He then heard something else, on top of the hauntingly beautiful music. Master Jiang was singing along very softly. He opened his eyes to see the old master reveling, swirling his teacup rhythmically with the tune and his lips moving so slightly. He wondered how old this man is since Nicolas mentioned that someone else lived longer than he has. And what of the last page of the phoenix book, why was it blank this whole time? Is Master Jiang supposed to be on the page, did something happen in the past? Why has no one ever contacted China except Madam Ya Zhou? 

The music gradually began to slow, and the other instruments in the melodies faded away. Dumbledore looked out to the moon. At such height, the full moon looked even bigger. In the west, the night of a full moon is not something that is celebrated widely. There are people who hide, and there are those who come out to hurt others. Yet in this faraway place, everything he knew seems to be opposite here, and everyone seemed to be leading their lives just fine.

“Ah, another fine evening.” Master Jiang said as the last tone from the flute rang into the night sky. “Have you enjoyed yourself, Mr. Dumbledore?”

“I have, this is incredible. I have never heard music played so distantly and so beautifully. You must have a very accomplished quartet here on the mountains.” Dumbledore said.

“If only you had arrived earlier, during our mooncake festival, the quartet plays every night in celebration of the legend of the Enchantress of the Moon.” Master Jiang said thoughtfully as he drained his cup. “You must be very exhausted Mr. Dumbledore, I would suggest you have a good rest after such a hearty meal. I believe some time alone with your own thoughts now might be beneficial, for I sense that you are a hard man to convince.”

“I believe I am in great debt to you, Master Jiang, for the help and wisdom that you have shared,” Dumbledore said in a sigh, but with utmost gratitude. Master Jiang merely waved him away.

“Mr. Dumbledore. There is no need to stand on ceremony with me. Teacher to teacher, man to man, it is only right that I render help to whoever that needs it. As someone who has seen many years, the only thing I truly believe that has endured the test of time is kindness and love for all life on this earth.” Master Jiang stood up with Dumbledore.

“I couldn’t agree more. Nevertheless, thank you.” Dumbledore said.

“I believe in the west you would say, you’re welcome.” Master Jiang then gave a chuckle and bowed. Dumbledore bowed deeply this time before turning towards the door. He felt incredibly empty yet filled with thoughts at the same time, the conflicting emotions in him was a rare occurrence. He could feel exhaustion slowly overpowering him and he hurried towards his chambers for much-needed privacy after a day of baring himself, both in thoughts and in his heart. Even his soul felt exhausted, and he wanted nothing to just sit and rest. 

Master Jiang watched closely as Dumbledore disappear out of the dining-room door on the other side before stroking his chin thoughtfully and sat back down to pour himself more tea.

 _“You’re back?”_ he said with a smile as he put down the teapot. From behind a large pillar, SuYang stepped out of the shadows towards her teacher.

 _“Master.”_ SuYang greeted as she stopped right next to his chair. The old master turned to look at her, and for that split second raised his eyebrows in surprise. His prized student’s qipao was torn to shreds, and her cloak with the dragon embroidery was singed at its ends. But SuYang remained unharmed, that was what the master took away from that. _“I have resealed The Valley of a Thousand Demons. Someone broke the seal intentionally to launch the attack on the school. Or rather, to attack him.”_

_“Do you know who it is?”_

_“Yes, he was waiting for me at the valley, as though he knew someone would come along.”_

_“He is someone who could scale the mountain despite the test, together with those foul creatures in tow.”_ Master Jiang said thoughtfully as he reached to lift her cloak slightly. _“You appear to have fought him.”_

 _“Yes, he claims to be_ his _relative and has very extensive magic abilities that come from his_ _obscurial_ _form, and is well-versed in the dark arts,”_ SuYang said calmly. Master Jiang nodded some more.

_“Where is he now?”_

_“I sealed him inside the valley.”_

Master Jiang gasped uncharacteristically.

_“And the others that were with him?”_

_“In the valley.”_

Master Jiang gasped again.

 _“My dear_ _SuYang_ _! Is that really necessary?”_ Master Jiang frowned as though contemplating the very harsh verdict his student had sentenced them.

_“They impersonated Madam Ya Zhou to attack him at The Astor.”_

_“_ _Urgh_ _.”_ Master Jiang shuddered and looked quickly away.

_“I don’t think the valley will hold that one for long.”_

_“Hmmm. But, he will have to leave the country nevertheless. I do not think he will be that silly to attempt an attack at the school.”_

There was a long silence between the master and his student.

 _“Rest early, you have done much already.”_ Master Jiang said eventually, nodding and swirling his cup before giving a smile. _“It appears, he has another visitor.”_

SuYang, on the other hand, looked ready to flare.

_“The visitor is just bringing him some news from home, and incidentally, is also escorting someone home.”_

SuYang frowned deeply.

 _“He will be coming from the west and has been misled that he is now heading towards Master Yuan.”_ Master Jiang shuddered again and waved her away. _“Have a good rest tonight before you set out tomorrow.”_


End file.
